Unpacking a backpack

The backpack from the past
Hid in a corner til at long last
She purged it from her room
Like a memory she'd rather remove.
But it was a part of who she was,
And as identity often does,
It just stayed in everyone's way,
Moving from closet to hallway,
Stairs to downstairs,
Til it was finally seen by someone who cares.

A mother who opened the backpack and cried
Over the bittersweet memories found inside.
To the end of an era, 
She could hardly bear it.
As she pulled out the snacks, the shin guards, and tape,
She knew they'd lost much more than she'd ever betray. 
Childhood dreams not her own, 
But someone she loves and knows.

She released the painful past

And realized it was just a backpack.