You Could Call it That

A chilly wind blows against the bags as I lift them into the car. A wind unexpected in March here in the Southwest. Too small clothes, toys no longer needed, and other household items of little interest fill the bags and surrounding area. I hop into the drivers seat and head off. As I pull around to the back of the building, I notice the forbidding closed door. Checking the hours posted, I climb out hoping to deliver my unused items into the hands of those who could use them. No answer at the door despite the time. With the wind chilling my bare legs, I hustle to the front and ask the kind workers where I can leave my treasures. One promises to meet me in the back. We chat as I unload all I have to offer. "Spring cleaning, eh?" she quips as I ask for a receipt. I look at her, thinking about our journey ahead, all the packing, purging and planning and decide to leave it at that. Spring cleaning? Sure, you could call it that.