Over the years I’ve collected quite a bit of shit.
I have a ton of stuff that I don’t even need. Receipts for this or that. Paperwork for closed accounts. Clothes that I don’t wear. Electronic cords for things I’m not sure I even own any more.
And the worst part of it all? It’s all thrown together in boxes, completely unorganized. Not only do I have boxes and boxes of crap, but those boxes have been hit by tornadoes.
(sigh)
The problem started when I moved into a house. Houses, unlike most apartments, have garages. Garages are awesome for storing boxes of shit that you really don’t feel like going through. Three moves later and three garages later, I’m finally unpacking these boxes. I’m tired of not being able to find stuff that I know I have.
Last night, as I was going through some of it, I came across The Box.
Oh, yes. THE BOX.
The one box where you put all your old pictures from Back In The Day. Or those few cards that you held onto because the person that gave it to you really took the time to write you something heartfelt and meaningful. It’s usually the smallest box you own, but it takes 7 hours to go through it.
It’s a box of memories.
I’ve grown apart from a lot of people that I was once close with. Most of the time it was unintentional. Life happens sometimes. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to try to find them on Facebook tomorrow so I can ask them how the hell they’re doing.
But other times, like when friendships or relationships took a shit, the distance needed to happen. Last night, I came across old photos and cards from people who I undoubtedly cared for. I won’t lie and say that I didn’t smile as the memories of Good Times flowed through my mind, because I did. But I also remembered why we separated ways.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t harbor bad feelings for anybody. It’s all in the past and I’m over it. I wouldn’t mind catching up with some of them, but it’s not something I’m going to go out of my way to do. There was a reason why those relationships ended and I try to keep those reasons in mind.
But, for some reason, I held on to a few of their memories. Last time I went through The Box, I got rid of the majority of those reminders, but there was always just one thing – - a picture of us at the beach, a card for no reason, a note – - that I just could not let go of.
I pulled those things out of The Box, took a last look at them, and wondered why I still had them. I shook my head and placed the items in the plastic bag with all the other documents that I needed to shred.
It’s amazing how one little piece of paper can be so hard to let go of when it’s the last memory you have of a relationship in the past.
It feels good to do it, though. You should try it.
