Packing

I'm finally almost done with my packing. When my mom and her boyfriend bought a house a few months back, I figured I had plenty of time to pack. I don't have that much stuff, or so I thought.

In truth, I don't have a lot of stuff, but I have a lot of important stuff that I don't need anymore. What am I going to do with that box of old photos? Or that history essay that I wrote on Creationism over Evolution? Or that poem that I wrote when I was thirteen? I'm certainly not going to throw those things away, maybe I should, but I won't.

I spent the last week going through a ton of paper. I did throw away some of it, but I kept a lot of it even though it is from another time in my life. I love to look back at old things. I want to be able to pull these things out and share them with my grandkids fifty years from now. If that means that I have to hold on to them until then, so be it. If that makes me a packrat, oh well.

Even if things aren't particularly important to me now, they were then. Otherwise I wouldn't have kept them, and if that old love note was important to me four years ago, than it is still important now.

Nineteen years of life, packed away in less than nineteen boxes (half of which are full of books!) yet these boxes contain so much. They hold what is important to me. These few possessions represent my life and sit as reminders of the girl I used to be and show a bit of the woman that I am becoming.