CLEANING HOUSE - By Janeen Phillips

Change won’t come in the winter; even though the sound of rain, like sharp nailed fingertips, drums with impatience on my roof. Harsh winds send me inward, and I am lulled into complacency, drawn into a protected chrysalis.

With the awakening of spring, leaves energetically unfurl and purple-headed Crocuses take the risk to peek out from the dead remains of winter. The first stirring of uneasiness resonates deep within me, like the quickening of new life.

Change will happen when the warm energetic optimism of summer strengthens my resolve. When emotional pain outweighs my terror of the unknown, I am impelled with the urge to purge.

Let the winnowing begin!  

Three times I have been forced to free myself from two-legged liabilities and remove my necklace of millstones. Like a She wolf leaving behind her bloody paw in the teeth of a trap, I emerged from these loses wounded but wiser.

I have grown burdened by my past. It is time for cleaning house.

Digging deep, I evaluate artifacts from a lifetime. Do they nurture my soul, capture forever those whom I have lost? Do they still hold power over me?  

Piles of photographs form a landscape on the living room floor. They tell the story of my life.

With reverence I place the small mound of black and white photos of my childhood and pictures of my young children into an envelope, for the sake of keeping. Vehemently, I tear to shreds images of those whom I wish to erase.

Treasures and trash, I AM the gate keeper of memories.