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The Postscript: The last box

 

Last updated 4/21/2021 at 9:19am



“Oh my gosh. I don’t want to open that box.”

Moving furniture and books and clothing is easy. It’s moving memories that is hard.

I am going through the last of my boxes. I used to say I was not a packrat. I thought I was more like my mother than my dad. My dad might tuck a piece of wood away, thinking it would find a use someday. My mother would be of the opinion that it’s easier to buy a board when (and if) it was needed. Generally, it wasn’t.

This approach keeps my parents’ house very tidy — with the possible exception of one small room in the basement where my dad ke...



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