Sometimes, looking at my house, it seems like everything. Old letters, as we’ve already established. Photos. Paid bills. Boxes that could be broken down and recycled but are propped in the corner of the kitchen for cats. List of vegetable planting times. Lettuce seeds already expired. CDs. Computer cords. Issues of Gourmet magazine with stickies poking out to mark the pages. Undeveloped rolls of film. Refrigerator magnets. Twist ties. Keys. Prayer flags of unknown origin. Torn towels. Grandma’s china. Christmas cards taped around the door frame and the faces we pass through each time we move from kitchen to living room. At least until next year.

February 4, 2015