a box of memories

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Underneath my bed, there’s this box where I’ve stashed treasure’s over the years. There’s plane tickets that mean something because they tell me I’ve been somewhere. There’s tickets that I once held in my hand in awaiting to see a new movie or Football game.  There’s a photo of my brother overlooking a grave that we took for a school project (I like to laugh about it). There’s flyers and handout’s from retreats that are some of my favorite times. There’s old programs from my recitals when I used to dance and remind me that I miss the stage and dancing so much. There’s Watercolor painting from a friend for my birthday when we were small. There’s a thank you it’s from my best friend in Kindgergarden, who I haven’t spoken to in years. There’s also a bunch of Postcards–they’re all blank.  They’re from trips taken long ago and the words I would’ve said were never written there.

I like going back and fingering through them all, and remembering. I like remembering.

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