This morning I was reminded of some letters my mom sent to me when I was 18 years old. I went looking for them in a box that I keep under my bed. I didn't find the letters I was looking for. I found her purse with makeup. The last purse she used before she got too sick to go anywhere. I don't know why I kept it. But there's nothing I can do now, except keep it for a while longer - in a box, under my bed.
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