There They Sit.

There they sit. Boxes filled with yesterdays. Photos, school work, letters and cards, ancestors with no name and other memories I put away without reading or looking at. The past was planted firmly away in the middle of everyday cluttered life's moments.

I brought them upstairs to make room for the move in. I had forgotten what some of them contained. Slowly I will open them, pick them up and try to breathe. Just thinking about what I will find takes my breath away. One small box hasn't been opened since my mom died in 1968. Another hasn't been opened since the 1970's.

I can feel them sitting behind my desk as if they had eyes. I don't think I can put the process off too long if this is how they are going to taunt me. It was easier to deal with them downstairs in a box in a corner. But it is long past time to go through them, keep and discard, learn and try to forget and create a new box, of the good things, places and times. Memories my family won't want to keep in their downstairs in the dark, in a corner. Memories they will want to share and keep in the light.