Memories. I've been sorting through boxes of mementos this week, and a lot of memories come to mind. There is this collection of evidence of my life on this planet. A member of this tribe, in this space suit. Evidence of a living, breathing existence from 1962 through to today.
I really don't remember ever intentionally having it in my mind to save so many sentimental things.
I'm not a scrap book fan. I don't have any photo albums of my past to speak of. I've not ever organized my photos or memories into anything structured. These boxes of mementos and photos are untidy, unstructured, and unorganized. Each box seems to house a collection of roughly five years of my life.
There is a diary that I've kept off and on since I was 15. This is destined for the shred pile along with most of the rest of the many letters, notes, and post cards. I review a few paragraphs then toss these things into the recycle box.
For a few days I yearn to pull the diary back out of the box. I thoughtfully consider the reasons I imagine are important enough to warrant keeping the diary. Ultimately, I leave the diary in the shred pile and stack more tax records from last century on top. The urge lessens, but doesn't disappear.
Why toss it all now? Mainly because I don't want to use up today and tomorrow reliving yesterday. The more I keep now, the more often I will handle these many things tomorrow.
Why did I keep so many photographs, cookbooks, recipes, letters sent and received, holiday letters, concert tickets, broadway tickets, playbills, photographs, airplane stubs, train tickets and so on?
Even as I sort through these things today, I find some items are easy decisions to toss aside. Off they go into the recycle bin, or shred bin, or trash bin.
Other items I think may perhaps be of value to the offspring. Photos taken in their youth, clever letters from admiring classmates, notes of encouragement from grandparents. I set these things aside and allow them to decide on their own if they want to keep or to get rid of.
Each day there seem to be a few items I think I want to keep. Each evening I review these items, and it seems the collection multiplies to many more items. It is time to rest and reflect.
It is the love expressed by an ancestor that is shared in a card, a bookmark, a letter, a gift, or a photo that hooks me, keeps me holding onto the paper, the photo, the card, the book. Holding on doesn't bring them back, and it doesn't extend my life. Still, the yearning to cling continues to reverberate on a low hum.
I dig through some more boxes.
The past 40 years documented in letters, post cards, and photos, journal entries. Wow. The dialogue in my head goes something like this:
Do I preserve these things for my offspring? or let it go now so they are left unencumbered by history?
Let them pave their own way fresh and clear of any trauma I experienced here or there. Even in the boxes of happy memories there are some difficult and challenging times. Will it help them to know?
Let them find their own resiliency and make their way.
Like time capsules, these many memories activate emotions when I read a page of handwritten diary entries or letters to and from important people in my life. Feelings put to paper so long ago. Expressions of my own angst, confidence, frustration, joy, need, love, experience, desire, growth, expectation, happiness.
All standard issue events, emotions, experiences of ones life. My Life.
These experiences brought me here, sorting through boxes in my middle age.
Some experiences remain too painful to relive. Shred and move on.
I give thanks and acknowledge that there is a great deal to live for today.
I really don't believe it will matter to any one else but me in the long run, what stays and what goes.
Is it selfish to think that the contents only speak to me? To any one else, it's fit for the burn barrel.
This sentiment ought to make it easier to let it all go to the recycling bin. It likely will end up there after all. Why not let it be me in charge of getting it done now?
The idea that some remnant will remain and have a positive impact for some one else keeps me from chucking it all down to the bottom of the silo at once.
But. Doesn't it all eventually arrive there anyway?
Finally, I decide to refocus. To reconsider the goal.
Downsizing. Living with less.
Why? There is only enough time to do what We love.
Read, travel, shop for and prepare delightful meals. Drink Wine. Walk and Ride.
Enjoy the company of family and friends.
Live a little.
No comments:
Post a Comment