Every year during the annual spring cleaning a plan to clean out the attic is always intended but as the time slips away the chore goes undone. This year as I climb those creaky stairs into a hot dark space I attempt to start the process that has been ignored for so many years. There are boxes of Christmas decorations and shoes of a different generation stacked along side a tin box full of yellow worn photographs of family members lost in time. The musty smell of old books, a pile of magazines from years past and six white candles to be used in the event of a blackout are among dozens of items and boxes that that fill this upstairs attic. With each peek inside of a different box I am sent down memory lane and the choice of what stays and goes becomes more difficult. Here’s a life magazine issue of the Moon landing how could I possibly throw that out. Here’s a box of old birthday cards, this is my grandmother’s old china and look here’s the dress my mother wore at her wedding. The reasons I haven’t chose to climb those stairs and all these years is finally clear. This attic isn’t littered with garbage it’s packed full of memories gently faded remnants of family members lives. To clean out the space would be to delete all that has come before me. What should I do? Should I clean out the attic or should I just add to it for those who will be here after me?