Writing Prompt- Baggage

They looked off at the grim task before them. Abandoned mounds of rubble in each direction. Where should I even begin? They each wondered to themselves in silence.

It wasn't the sort of thing you could discuss before doing it. It was overwhelming just to be there much less to be the one that had to approach this disaster first. Do I pick up all the big things first so I'm making a bigger impact or do I start with the small things and work my way up? Some of them contemplated.

While some of them stood in silent awe, others paced in nervous anticipation. Some mumbled under their breath, while others still could barely breath. Maybe I'll just pick up the things closest to me and see if I can do something with them? A few of them mustered a clear thought from the haze of the morning ahead.

It was perfectly clear. What had been could be no more. What now? Clean up. But how? One piece at a time...

But what first. How? So many of them were stuck on the how. A few were even still stuck on the why me. Why me God, why do I have to be the one to deal with this now?

No answer came from the piles, no answer fell from the heavens, no one spoke, and if anyone was listening no one could feel it in their heart.

They were numb looking at their baggage piled around them, suddenly a visible reminder of what they had already come through. The little bags laying around the big ones. Some so tiny they looked like they should crush under the weight of all the other things around them. Some so big they knew no one man could carry them alone.

Is this all mine? surely not they imagined, I would remember all this.

Time faded most of their bags until only the tags marked them as their own. I'd almost forgotten. they'd whisper when they saw their own writing to remind them.

I'd almost forgotten and yet I was carrying this with me all along.