Can you hear me ?

Some days ago, after the vacation, in the wind-up for an old year and before the new one, we spoke.
He said, ''Maybe I'm the one who's too gray -(In response to my troublesome black and white perspective)-.''
He started talking about how he had to sort things -everything- in his life. All that lingering paperwork and boxes of useless or dated documents. All those shirts that were too faded or aged, or torn. Too small, too big, or stained.
And then there was me. He had to figure out what to do with me, with us, he said.
I was part of the mess he had to rearrange or discard.