Sentimentality

On sunday Roy and I got all my things from my storage unit in Seattle and moved into our new house in Ellensburg. At first we put all the boxes (most of which haven't been unpacked for the last five moves or so) into our spare bedroom to be dealt with at a leisurely pace. However, last night Roy decided that we should bring them all into the living room to force us to unpack, sort, put away and/or get rid of all the crap I've been carrying around with me for years. Watching him tackle my boxes with his perfectly logical sorting method makes me realize why I have never been able to conquer the stacks myself. You see, when I go through these boxes, it's like being flung head first in to a pile of memories. I can tell by the contents which move a particular box was packed during. Old letters and momentos jostle me back and forth between different stages of my life. Photographs of old lovers make me think of patterns that I can't be certain I am not still repeating. I relive all the beutiful moments... the disappointments... the heartaches, and the moments of inspiration. At 28 it feels as if I have lived a thousand life times. As I sort and discharge posessions, I consider what my family and friends might learn about me from what I kept if I were to die tomorrow. Then I think that maybe by sorting through everything, I will also be forced to sort through the longings and the regrets to unburden my psyche. I am greatful for Roy's approach. Perhaps I will be able at last to reconcile some of the contradictory aspects of my personality and find a balance in my relationships and my life.