Your closets are full. You don't really know where to kind the clothes that you really enjoy. And your favorite books are buried under newspapers, pillows and shoes you were meaning to throw away. At fifty, It is hard to say goodbye to everything since you lost so much as a child.
The junk man came and you started filling boxes with your life story. You wondered what someone was going to think at the recyling center when they picked up an enveloped addressed to you from your ex-mother-in-law from 1983. Would they stop for a moment and create a story about who you might be?
Forty years ago, your mother slipped away in the night in intensive care. Your dog was put up adoption and your father moved the family away from your school. You had to start all over again with nothing except your favorite pair of blue jeans and a few beatles albums.
Now, time is sliding away from you again with all of its force.
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I love 'filling boxes with your life story,' and the idea of wondering if someone will create a story about who you might be. I love the entire third graph. And I especially love that final line, the idea of time siding with "all of its force." This is all just so beautiful.
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