Every January first
we vow to clean up the storeroom
We plan to open all those boxes
that never got unpacked
in twenty years and many moves
Until one day I said to my husband
“Either we move to a bigger house
or we clean out the storeroom”
So we set aside two weekends
rolled up our sleeves
and did the deed
There were boxes on top of boxes
shelves filled with things we’ll never use
scarves and mittens
hardened ski wax
rusted batteries inside of toys
a coffee maker, an ice bucket
paper plates from parties past
out-of-style hats
an old fur blanket
children’s books and roller skates
my son’s soap sculptures from kindergarten
my daughter’s drawings from first grade
mountain boots, some empty frames
a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces
As we sort through a lifetime of objects
memories tumble out, too
Some make us smile as we remember
Some tug and hurt as we discard
Then everything goes back into boxes
most labeled “For donation”
and stacked again
but in the driveway
not in the storeroom
which now stands empty
of memories