I'm moving again. Don't know where but it will be soon.
It’s odd what we keep in our lives. I’ve been looking around my room, taking inventory I guess. It seems as if I’ve been cleaning things out for the last two years. First downsizing 20 years of living and a five bedroom home to something I could move across country and fit into a small apartment. Then a couple of months after I moved in here, I tossed tons of keepsakes, pictures, journals and books. I still have too much crap, lol. Yet as I go through it, I find it hard to get rid of these last few things. It’s silly really, since the memories they supposedly hold are really only in my mind.
Why, then, is it so hard to throw away a seashell I found when I was three, or give a book to someone who hasn’t read it yet? Why keep a box of photographs of people who aren’t around anymore but will always live in my heart? Each item special, unique, irreplaceable and yet unnecessary.
Silly creatures, aren’t we?
