this morning i am rooting through boxes
in my basement. deep twinges of "holding on"
spark and a sort of sadness bubbles up. i've
come to love the dry dusty smell of these boxes...
sitting in the dark for three or four years at stretch.
quiet because they are patient... memories anxious
to be held or just seen, again. today i will have to
say goodbye to some things... other memories and
items i will merely say to myself, "not yet."
grimm
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