Klowns in my Koffee

I am a sucker for the beginning of things, an unrepentant fan of the fresh start. The first day of school in the fall, despite the near-90 degree temperatures, still signals the inevitable spiral into winter and then progression to the new season of renewal and growth.

And yet it's not without mixed feelings that I see this special summer end. Grade school started today and kindergarten starts tomorrow. That will be a new emotional hurdle. I'm hoping for a little quiet time to work on my projects but I may miss the hubbub and look forward to that bus returning in the afternoon.

A white lunch bag, folded flat.

A stapled tag on the spiky upper edge:

"Fill with five small objects

that tell us who you are.

Decorate with creativity

and return for Wednesday sharing time.

Be prepared to explain."

When you are eight, you gather

a baseball and a baseball card,

a favorite Matchbox car,

a picture of the family,

nd a handful of foreign coins.

You collect crayons, magazines for harvesting

and a glue stick to style the outside

Because you know the five things you most are

and never imagine that you will be someone else.

When you are twenty or forty or eighty,

will the bag lie flat in startled hands?

or strain and split from five that grew to fifty?

Letters of triumph and photos of regrets,

a lock of hair (your own or someone else's),

a pet's collar,

a ticket for a plane that was missed,

corks collected from exquisite vintage and from vinegar.

At the funeral of the father of a friend,

a quiet table of

pictures and hand tools,

a computer mouse,

and a library card,

gave proof of homework completed true and well.

I don't expect to see eternity

but if there is another room,

at the door might be a bag with stapled instructions.

Be prepared to explain.