While I prepare to pack up to go the South Korea, I am trying to take the opportunity to sort out several boxes of junk. Unfortunately, much of it is not junk to me—but what be classified as junk to anyone else. It is so hard to let go of these things.
In my boxes, I have a collection of little things that I have picked up along the way. To be sure, there are some things in these boxes that are easy to part with. There are old Pez containers and plastic toys. There are little notebooks that I picked up to start a new project, but never finished. However, there are thing in those boxes that are priceless to me. I have a little box that my sister gave me when she first lived in Germany. I have a card from my oldest brother. I have awards from the year all three of my brothers and me were at Camp Ridgecrest. I have things that have collected that I must let go. It seems that letting go is letting the memory slip away.
There are memories attached to many different things. It is a reminder that my years to this point have been good years, but letting go allows me to make new memories with my kids. To build up their boxes that one day the will have to sort through as well.
Simply to make room for more.
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