Last time

 I picked last- I can’t talk about some last times- I’m not comfortable enough to delve into some last times- so although it’s still emotional and bittersweet- I decided I would feel okay with the idea of my childhood home last times-

As we sold our parents house a few years ago- I found myself going there several last times- to go through old stuff- marked with the occasional treasure- or a long forgotten piece of childhood that echoed with a mixture of dread regrets and sadness- and not without a sprinkling of fear-

Wondering how I got to these last times- did I ever foresee the future as I sat in the soft chair- looking at the Christmas tree- almost always after Christmas- and suddenly feeling the Christmas spirit-

Did my reflection in the picture windows ever stop to truly see myself- would it recognize the woman pondering these memories today-

Last time in my hallway- last time in my bedroom-in the pink bathroom- in the paneled den - last time- take it in- don’t resist the endless pangs of illusive moments-

So I touched the door- looking back as I closed it-like watching the last scene in a long running sitcom-

And I promised the child within me- that I would try hard to give reverence to all these last times