moving like in a mirror maze,
from book towers to toy heaps to tangle of medals, to miles high paper piles, coloured pens pencils markers massage balls binoculars, letters in assorted unsorted boxes until utterly distorted I found myself in Maycomb Alabama
hugging Dill and Scout when he says his parents don't need him and she says Atticus couldn't get by a day without her
hoping in the pile of things that is home now, my kids feel more scoutish than dillish and will still feel so in our new cave where everything will have its place, returning unbidden when not needed, so it can always be found.
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