Threw away a box of memories today.
Hadn't opened them since we moved here 3 years ago. Boxes were in the way. Screw it. Opened em up first, though. Got to remember, and say goodbye.
Trinkets from ex's, reminders of family best forgotten, broken items I fixed and refixed and could never part with before, little goofy inside jokes. Some hard reminders of hard times in a few.
I am an admitted packrat. Today, I stuffed the packrat in a box and sent her out with the trash.
In some ways, clutter can be comforting. My desk, my futon, my "living space" is surrounded by bookshelves stuffed to overflow. Little gadgets and gizmos inclined to promote thought and creativity. Comfort. My cave.
Three large boxes.
And I feel more accomplished than melancholy over the loss. I hadn't opened the boxes in three years. They were distant memories. In all, there were very few that I decided I could not live without.
It's progress. But there are still more boxes ahead.
Maybe one of these days, I'll get to those skeletons in the closet, and banish them for good.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment