She replays the purge of bags
and boxes of her children’s letter books, handmade cards, notebooks, algebra, chemistry, Jane Austin and Joyce underlined and analyzed, trophies, certificates and struggles with the riddle of where to put the stories she never showed anyone.
The Night Before the First Frost
Just after midnight and their lawn shimmers in silver shadow, so instead of counting sheep, she ponders, Is it time to throw away her own childhood color slides and 8mm birthdays with her father still in the picture? Wedding dress? She calms her mind by stepping into their garden where lunar light mutes everything— roses, daisies, wilting gardenia. Her feet on the cold fieldstone. she scans late bloomers staring into stillness fully knowing tomorrow’s forecast.