At least ten different times, I give up on the whole job of dealing with all the sentimental items. I can’t do this! It is such a burden that I have nightmares about them. They grow arms and legs and chase me down long, dark corridors into the bowels of the earth. The nightmares prove to be a pivotal event. I do not want to be haunted by my past, no matter how good (or bad) it was.
In the end, I am able to pare things down to one large manila envelope that I fill with a few physical mementos: cards the kids have made just for me, (only a few) cards with mushy hand-written notes from my husband; things like that.
Eventually, when I am so weary I can’t stand it anymore, I just throw the rest of the treasures away, along with five assorted sized jars of partially used Vicks Vapor Rub, ten tubes of Clinique lipstick samples, three dozen bottles of dried up fingernail polish, all seven of my frayed crocheted dish rags, two stained Christmas table cloths, a wild assortment of previously burned candles, and thousands of other objects. What I don’t outright throw away, I put up for sale or give away, but that’s a long story in its own right.
We birds are almost ready to fly!