Pile o' Crap

or pot of gold?

In the very near future, I will be moving to Pittsburgh. My time is up in Galveston (well, not really), but I gotta clean house. Unfortunately, I've accumulated a lot of crap over the past few years--wait, make that seven years--and the task feels a bit daunting.

As I sift through my belongings, I find the experience to be more emotional than I had imagined. Why is that? When does our stuff stop being just stuff? When does it become covered in emotions, painted with specific times and places, and filled up with memories? And what if we didn’t, or better yet, what if I didn’t hold on to things in this manner?

I kinda like that I get attached. I kinda like that I look to find the heart and soul of it all, even in stuff. I kinda like that as a kid I would eat EVERY SINGLE RICE KRISPIE in the box for fear that a lonesome straggler would be a) sad without its other krispie friends (who were all hanging out together in my tummy), and b) disappointed that it was never able to fulfill its true destiny. I probably shouldn't be admitting this sorta thing.

Nevertheless, there comes a time when letting go is the best option, the only option, and the most exciting option (if you let it be). It's a reminder to call on faith, and not the past, to help guide you.