We never dug deep enough, wept long enough or hard enough because it was hard enough to get past the mountain of stuff that had built up around us, so we sank into the trough of not enough where not enough became too much and understood that even enough would never be enough because we never dug deep enough.

and we were astonished that time passed, famished in the emptiness that in the fullness of time would calm us enough to find comfort in the stuff we had left behind.

Memories are far too kind.