Cape Town, South Africa

The book I donated came back with my wife’s note still inside

Dear Delyara, After my wife died, I donated hundreds of our books because I could not keep the whole house frozen. Today, at a secondhand book sale, I picked up a novel and recognized my own handwriting inside the cover. Our copy. I had donated it three years ago. When I opened it, a piece of paper fell out. My wife had written: Peter — page 146. This is you. I turned to page 146. A character was arguing that instructions are suggestions. I laughed so loudly the volunteer looked at me. My wife accused me of that constantly. Flat-pack furniture, recipes, directions—apparently I considered myself more intelligent than every instruction ever written. I bought the book back for two pounds. I do not know how many owners it had between us. Nobody removed her note. It travelled through strangers and somehow returned. I used to believe keeping objects was the only way to preserve connection. Today, something I deliberately let go came back carrying a joke from my marriage that I had completely forgotten. I am not going to build a philosophy around it. I am putting the book on my shelf and, for once, following instructions.