It has been quiet in this neck of the woods.

I have spent some time sorting out old photographs that have come from my husband’s side of the family.

There are so many of them.  This is not the first time I have gone through them but, in one of the boxes, there was a note I had left for myself that I had only so far gone through ‘this lot’.

Dozens of tiny snaps stuffed into envelopes.

More that one set of sets – that had been developed and sent to other family members – and came back again to us (me) as they died off.

I am a repository.

I am not delighted with this task, these images – I suspect I am talking of something else now – I am – some deep memories have started to surface during this – I’ll be here forever, it seems, with these.

But there is no other way through it.

I am resentful.

Let’s get real.