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We’re in the midst of moving once again, and in the repacking I just found a tub of miscellani that definitely had not been unpacked since we moved from Nashville, two and a half years ago.
Which of course begs the question: when is it time to let go?
It was mostly framed pictures, a few from our wedding and a few of friends not spoken to for years. Falling-apart frames and ones with itty-bitty pictures glued around the outside. Frames proclaiming the year 2004 and “i do!”
No longer newlyweds – our 8-year anniversary is in July – is it time to let these things pass on to younger thrift-store shoppers? I removed some of the pictures from frames, tucking them into albums, posting them to Facebook for a smile.
Some photos caused me to pause, like the one of my best friend’s mother dancing with exhilaration at my wedding. My friend is marrying in July – I am in her wedding as she was in mine – and her mom won’t be there. She succumbed to ovarian cancer three years ago.
And that thought makes me cling to the pieces of the box, wondering if there will come a time when I wish I hadn’t thrown away the slip of paper with a Chinese take-out order on it in my own mother’s handwriting. What if I need that piece of her? What if I bemoan the loss of a vanilla candle, a stuffed toy, a piece of newspaper in the coming months?
Why is it so difficult to part with “stuff”?
I so long for simplicity and vapidly declare my intention to weed out half of our belongings during this across-campus move. In my head, I believe it. But tugs of my heart won’t let me toss the loopy cursive of my mommy in the trash can.