It struck me the other day- the bags they give you in the hospital for “personal belongings”- are filled with belongings for both the living and the dead.

When my new nephew came to my home, he smelled like fresh life. His parents had such a bag filled with things new and sweet, but it made my stomach heave to see it.

I held just such a bag the last time I saw my mother alive, and again when I was handed the belongings that were no longer hers… Ironic, no?

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