Trappings

I stayed home from church today. D hauled the kids off to Sunday School and 10:30 worship. I stayed home to "finish" the basement. The packing, that is.

Throughout this whole process, and even as we've anticipated packing and moving over the past several years, I've warned D not to be too sentimental. "Do you really need to save that?" That box of photos, that folder of certificates, those cards from friends... How quickly I had forgotten that my own box of "do you need to save that"'s was downstairs. I just haven't looked at them in quite some time. Photos from friends' weddings. A varsity letter from marching band. Embarrassing photos from high school dances. Photos of relatives no longer living. Letters from parents when I was a freshman in college. Notes from roommates.

To be honest, I'm glad I was here by myself and could take the time to look through these things. As I picked and chose through which things to keep, I became aware that those things that are truly mine - all mine and no one else's in this house - can now neatly fit into one moving box. When I moved here nine years ago this week, I brought all sorts of things that seemed so important. Box after box of "stuff." And now, it's down to one box. It seems strange. So much of me is poured out into being a wife and a mother and a teacher...that those things that remind me of my life before those roles have dwindled into just a few precious possessions and memories.

I can't help but think that after I tape up "my" box of special items, no one will ever see the things inside until that time comes when we move again. And since we have no intention of moving until A & J are on their own, my treasures will stay hidden for years to come. I wonder what they will mean to whoever opens them up years and years from now.