Packing to go home after a month on Nantucket, rolling sweaters I don’t need but bought into my suitcase, shoving shoes and books into a box to ship, I’m wishing I had less pants and and mugs and socks, and instead kept every opening night note and thank you note and birthday card anyone has ever written to me. I wish I had them all in a box. Why did I ever throw them away? I wish I’d thrown out the pants and sweaters, instead. I could wear the notes. When I’m old I want a box of letters to sit and read through, remembering each person who wrote each letter, back when my fingers worked, when it was all happening, when I was so loved. Is it too late to start?