Letting Go

I’m not so good at it. Actually, I’m really not good at it.

I cleaned the room. It needed cleaning. And sorting. Purging even.

There it is, the letting go.

Emptying the closet of boxes, I sat on the floor surrounded by

who knows what.

I deliberated and tossed and put away.

Then I saw it. 

A box full of her clothes. My sister’s clothes. 

I’m not sure why I have them, kept them, stored them.

She’s gone yet immediately I was in her presence.

She was here in the colors and textures.

But not the smell.

I buried my face in each item. One by one.

The socks even.

Nothing.

And I so desperately wanted someone to be there.

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