The Totes

The tote boxes are the kind that might hold blankets. I moved them from a closet in Boston to a closet here in New York, where they’ve sat for 12 years. Every time I open that closet, I see the corners of those totes. Sometimes I think of them when I walk past the closed closet door. Obviously, it’s getting time to pull them out and open them. I think that would be easy if they held blankets, but they hold photos that go back three generations, and family members I’ve offered them to have demurred. I tell myself I’ll be systematic, take out a few at a time and deal with them. I know, though, that in real life I’ll find myself sitting in the middle of the living room floor, with every inch of the carpet covered with photos. I also know that I have no idea what “deal with them” means.

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