It’s packing time again. I swear I just unpacked these boxes.
The real reason I hate packing is that it takes forever because every little bit of stuff takes me to a memory place that I have to spend some time in.
I’m not usually very nostalgic and I am the opposite of a pack rat. In fact, I have been known to toss things with reckless abandon and without a care. Just ask my poor husband-he is still mourning a bag of old news clippings, photos, cards from me etc. that didn’t survive the great Jackson Street basement purge of ’99. (In my defense, if your papers are so important to you, don’t pack them in a brown grocery bag so that they look like ordinary recycling and then leave them on the basement floor to be flooded like trash. How was I to know this bag of soggy crap was “precious memories”?)
I’m not usually very nostalgic and I am the opposite of a pack rat. In fact, I have been known to toss things with reckless abandon and without a care. Just ask my poor husband-he is still mourning a bag of old news clippings, photos, cards from me etc. that didn’t survive the great Jackson Street basement purge of ’99. (In my defense, if your papers are so important to you, don’t pack them in a brown grocery bag so that they look like ordinary recycling and then leave them on the basement floor to be flooded like trash. How was I to know this bag of soggy crap was “precious memories”?)
Anyway, my heart grows exponentially when it comes to my children’s bags o’ “crap”. Each piece of artwork, each tattered storybook, each picture and note takes on the utmost importance and it makes it increasingly hard to purge in order to pack efficiently. I’ve been packing for two days and it doesn’t look like I’ve made a dent.
What I have done is travel down memory lane quite a few times and it has been a lovely vacation. My wedding album always brings a sense of awe at not only how young we all looked, but at how much has happened to so many of us since those pictures were snapped. My kids’ bedrooms hold treasures of worn out tennis shoes and first ballet slippers. I even came across some baby blankets from the first one yesterday. I had a lovely time closing my eyes and smelling the smell of that first baby-remembering when it was just she and I-rocking and dreaming of all that was to come. (I bet her dreams did NOT include two bratty brothers. I’ll apologize for that later.)
I keep some of these things for future nieces of nephews or maybe even grand babies someday. Other pieces of stuff don’t fare as well. They go the way of the contractor size garbage bags. They’re just stuff after all. The memories, they’ll survive many more moves and declutters. Meanwhile, you don’t need boxes for memories-which is alright with me.
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i still can't believe you guys have to up and move your life yet one more time. down the street or not, still is boxing and unboxing. enjoy your memory lane and know that it's only growing while the stuff diminishes.