Sentimental Fool

I want to let go, I want to move forward, I want freedom.

This was former me-married, with a brand new kitten I love, in my apartment-home of The Boitsons.

That was me. Now I’m a Boitson. Singular. I’m sentimental-I look back at those pictures, and want to keep every thing that holds a piece of that time period in my life. Cat included.

One of the most difficult parts of moving forward is what to do with STUFF. In general, most of us are sentimental. I work for a self storage company part time, and I see it every time I rent a unit. People have a lot of sh*t, most of which really doesn’t need to be stored in $100/month units. Really-do you need that picture from the 1970’s that is obviously NOT a work of art?

But who am I to judge? I have a dragon figurine, which fell off the table and broke part of the tail off, that Kevin bought in my favorite store when I lived in Missoula, sitting on a table in my living room. Why? Because it was sentimental, as is the sword he bought in N. Dakota that we had hanging on our mantle that’s now in my closet, and his well worn wallet-still not sorted through. It’s not that I’m not well enough to do it, but I just don’t know what to do with it. Give it to his brother? His friends? My friends? Give away? Throw away-not sure.

Now I KNOW you have a broken wooden dragon-or at least, something similar, so no making fun of me. Why do we keep these things? Are we afraid that only physical things will tie them and trigger our mental memories? It’s all the more encouragement for me to finish the memoir. I have been encouraged all the more, especially last evening, to put down those memories before I forget them. Maybe then I can finally figure out how to get rid of more of the physical things that tie me to Kevin. It’s himself that I want to remember, not his stuff.

In the Downshifting blog by Shawn Smucker & Sara Otero-Eiser I am reminded again and again that this life should be simple of material goods, and more about being in the here and now. I do not want to continue to be weighed down by earthly goods when they do not last. My memories? I want them to last past my generation and onto the next-by a story that can only be told now, by me.

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