Moving is exhausting, and revealing. This move has illustrated the pack horse that I am. (I think I actually am a recovering hoarder!) Only I hoard pictures, cards, notes (That date back as far as 1998) and random keepsakes that I, at one time thought were special. Now, some 15 years later I can't seem to recall what was so special about those green plastic glasses, or the wind up frog. I have stock piled memories like it was going out of style. I wonder why I can't part with things that in the grand scheme of things don't really matter. I wonder if it is because all the random pieces and paper add up to different seasons in my life, and in a way they embody or represent a younger me. My mom says it is because I am sentimental. I guess she is right. Like the Tee-shirts from high school that had to be pried out of my hands at the donation bin, or the jeans that in an ideal world I would have worn to shreds, I hold on to old things with hope. Hope of another season of bliss in that Tee-shirt, or that the skirt I wore when I was 19 and 10lbs lighter will fit again, or that somehow the memorabilia in those boxes will help me relive my youth...
Yes, I got all that from moving 4 hours inland.
I am 80% unpacked and 60% organized. I still have about 12 boxes to sift through... the journey has just begun...
Happy Monday.
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