There are four boxes in front of my face. Four big boxes above
my closet, full with memories. Memories from the army, Letters from soldiers that
I kept. Sometimes I wonder why I keep them, if it is healthy
to save things from the past. I love looking at the boxes from a far but wonder
what it would be like opening them. I am sure they will make me laugh but will
it also make me sad? Why does it have to be both? Can’t it be just positive. Period.