Rooting around mom's house this weekend and found the box that I kept some of my keepsakes. Pictures of her. Pictures of friends -- high school, college. Letters from her. Letters from friends -- high school, college.

I wanted to read those letters. I haven't yet. I don't remember what they say. It'll scare me because of the memories and the feelings.

This box is a feeling time IED set to explode and take me away.

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