The other day I stumbled downstairs to (horror of horrors) clean the storage room.
A simple project that would take time
fairly straightforward, I purposed to get rid of some of the clutter
when I came upon a box
battered, bent and frayed
why did I keep this?
atumble with a chaos of years in paper
Mother's Day cards, pictures, receipts, tax reports, bills...
do you remember?
"to the best Mom in the world"
The defendant would like to change her name
a new job
"Congratulations, we'll miss you!"
"I want us to stay in touch. I'll call..."
a miniature wooden cow
love's first blush
"always yours, ..."
a collage of a lifetime
in need of sorting and filing
culling and sifting
a lifetime of memories
in a box.
For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.