Spare room. Spring cleaning day.

A woman stands in front of the closet,

peering in at the years of collecting

stuffed into a wall-length crevice.

A film of dust lays atop Grandmother’s hat boxes and stacks of old notebooks from high school.

The chain to turn on the single bulb above

dangles in the air

above the crowded shelves and mountains of vintage Beanie Babies and worn out shoes.

An apostrophe to each long-lost item.

She begins the dreaded clean

uncovering pieces of her long forgotten bonds and aspirations for the future.

And her heart above her stomach ties deep knots

of longing and memories gone away.

A college diploma earned when her major was still popular.

Her childhood bedroom door sign reading “My Room”.

the discount store wedding dress bought when he convinced her that

She would be his.

A woman sits in front of the closet

clutching her possessions that were

stuffed into the endless crevice,

dwelling on each memory and moment she’d had before.

Every moment she owned laid out on spring cleaning day

left in the spare room.