My stuff clings to me like a drowning non-swimmer. Sometimes I can lessen the grip with promises of a new home, an adoption of sorts. The negotiations of these adaption contracts are exhausting. The contracts feel more tedious than a divorce settlement.
For example my mother’s pearls that I never wear require a special home. I cannot sell them or give them to a thrift store where their emotional value will not be appreciated.
Other items are unadoptable like the popsicle-stick basket from my daughter proclaiming her love for me in childish letters. My chest constricts with the thought of releasing it to the trash bin and I am required to examine my feelings.
Will her gift be less real if its physical form no longer exists?
I can take a picture or better yet store the memory so it will be with me forever in consciousness.
What if I forget?
The thought takes my breath away. Didn’t my sister just remind me of a forgotten object I had given her a few months ago? Was my over 60 year old brain destined to erase everything? Didn’t I have to write down my daily task for fear of forgetting?
And with that thought was the solution – WORDS.
I can record anything I want to remember with words.
Glorious Delicious Words
My words help me let go AND remember.
The perfect green solution to STUFF.