IN OUR EMBERS IS SOMETHING THAT DOTH LIVE
A child’s toothbrush, a pair of sunglasses snatched off the hall table, and the pajamas they were wearing. That’s what our neighbors saved from their burning house. I think of all their history, their shared memories, the scrapbooks, the photo albums, their daughter’s crayoned scribbles melted to the charred husk of the refrigerator. It’s all just stuff, isn’t it? But it’s YOUR stuff. If it went up in flame and ashes, do you think you would feel freed? That you were winnowed and lightweight and had a free hand to start over; a clean slate? Or would you perpetually be...