I went back to the old house where I grew up. Some one else lives there now but I walked up to the front gate, remembering, honoring and most importantly, letting go. I took the necklace I was wearing, a pretty silver chain with a single crystal orb and placed it in the mailbox. A gift to the past. This was the last time I would visit the house and as I turned to leave I reached out and touched the railing that led to the front door. As I did so, I was flooded with memories, not just mine but the memory of every hand that touched it, all the feelings and years and stories of life gone by. The stairs were crumbles of rock and concrete, the corroded ruins of the forgotten on an inevitable journey toward extinction. I witnessed the past in a brilliant light of clarity. The past as debris like so many decayed like leaves in the gutter, long gone from the tree. Only in my mind is it untouched by the inexorable hand of time. In that one flash, like a bolt of lightning, the vision I held in my mind was revealed as long dead thing begging for release. I cried a few tears there with my hand still gripping the railing, tears that no longer held any bitterness or pain but tears of freedom-my freedom from the dying. I turned away from the house and faced the sunlight of midday.