Heart in an Envelope

Then I see the large white envelope, and I’m transported to a winter day some 15 years ago
It’s time to tackle the storage closet.
There’s a layer of dust on the uppermost shelves; it’s been collecting there for two years now.
I keep procrastinating. I know I’ll need to discard half the contents to reclaim some storage space, and I find parting with memorabilia hard.
I rip the first box open. Photo albums: keepers. Books: I sort them into a pile to keep and a pile to donate.
And then comes the box of letters from past students, now all grown, accompanied by pictures of when they were fresh-faced and adorable, resembling the little people hanging on to their strollers these days.
There are a whole bunch of old poems I’d written to people who once meant so much to me, but are now woven into the fabric of my past. I flush as I get a glimpse of a younger version of myself extolling praises and sharing love. I slowly move them into the trash so I can pretend I’ve always been a grown-up.
Then I see the large white envelope, and I’m transported to a winter day some 15 years ago. I remember the sweater I was wearing — teal blue, with a ruffle going down the center. I’d picked it up at Century 21 on one of my retail therapy trips after a disheartening obstetrician’s appointment. I needed many of those back then.
Oops! We could not locate your form.