Packing

The boxes and boxes of books are gone as are the sofa, the leather chair, my bed, and almost all of the other major pieces of furniture...

All that's left to do is to break down the kitchen and to figure out what to do with the bits and pieces that remain. And as always, its the bits and pieces that are the most difficult with which to deal. When I decided to move I thought that as I had moved here a mere year ago that I did not have the opportunity to accumulate much in the way of stuff, of scattered remnants, of things...I realize that I could not have been more wrong.

I have come to the realization that I believe that things hold memories...I know its a superstition...I know its illogical...and I know that the object merely triggers a series of chemical reactions in my brain, allowing me to recreate the event in question. These things I know...but I believe that it is the object itself that holds the memory.

So as I go through the scattered remnants in my soon to be former home, I am paring down, cutting ties, and throwing out. I have no need for the electric bill from last July that I found in my dresser...I have no idea how it ended up there. Nor do I have need for two pairs of pants three sizes too large, last worn too long ago. These are among many items that have ended up in the dumpster.

But there are some things that are too important...too powerful to banish the memories they contain to the uncertain realm of intangible thought...the memories these items contain must remain tangible...at least for now...the paper "blizzard" given to me by a certain then four year old, a book a matches from a favorite watering hole in Plymouth, a pass to a particular museum of natural history, a hospital ID wristband, a depleted Charlie Pass...these I will keep...as these were the sign posts for the road I have traveled during my time here in this place and these sign posts I need.

My sentimentality comes as no surprise to me...but the power of my superstition does...its illogical, unreasonable, and makes me feel a little guilty and a little foolish. On the other hand...a little illogic and unreasonableness never hurt anyone...besides...these are the things that help make us human.

Things hold memories...this I believe.