Another Box

As we sort through the mountains of boxes that have defined our life, we are stumbling upon all of Makenzie’s stuff that we packed up shortly after her death.  Another box … Another memory.  Another bin, another bag, another drawer, another Father’s Day card;  they all remind me of her.

I found her baby box this morning.  Small and simple, I didn’t want to open it but knew that it would be good for me to do so.  I lifted the lid and saw her baby footprint on a little card no bigger that a dollar, folded in half.  I hooked my pinky around the small hospital band that cuffed her baby ankle only moments after she was born.  I read a simple white card, stamped with the words, “From Your God-Parents”.

So many boxes.  So many joys.  So many memories that help me remember Makenzie’s short life that has such long impact.  Yet, while the pain of last year has subsided, the ache gnaws on; especially when opening another box.



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