My not quite 11-year-old granddaughter Kiley wrote this for her blog.
Letting go is hard. Tomorrow is our community garage sale, and I finally have to say goodbye to my old baby dolls. I don’t really care about the dolls. Nor about the old VHS tapes, or even the stuffed animals. It’s the memories buried inside those things I want. The memories that make me want to turn back the clock. Back when I was little. Little enough to fit in the stroller we’re selling.