a box of memories


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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