Connie Donleycott

Boxes

Once again, I try to sort through the stack of boxes.  Twenty-one years ago our daughter was born. Three years later, our son. I’m a saver. Baby clothes, first shoes, snips of hair from first haircuts, first lost tooth—yes, I saved those!

tracks in summer sand
I follow my son’s
flat feet

Small scraps of paper, drawings, schoolbooks, reports, tests and awards. Keepsakes, from birth through high school graduation. Boxes filled, what to let go?

first day on her own
our oldest child
snowed in

Stored memories, saving the moments for them. Now realizing, they face forward.

again
a child’s wonder
in my haiku eyes