Well I gave notice yesterday and I begin the daunting task of sorting through my belongings. Sorting through the endless mementos of my life lived is both fun and exhausting. Each item I own has a story attached to it and I get flashes of their moments as I walk through my home. How does one decide what is worth holding on to our passing on so that someone else can continue their story by leaving their indelible mark on what used to be mine. If that is possible is anything really mine? Maybe each item had a rich life without me, you know B.A., Before Alycia.
As thoughts flood my mind's eye, I dread the inevitable shedding of another layer. Each country I've inhabited leads to an acquiring of the things of life I believe I cannot live without, but days like this arrive and I often ask myself why did I think I would need this crap? Life is so fickle or may be it is just me that is fickle. So I guess it is out with the old and the selling of the practically new. I know as I pack each box it will hold promises of a continuing story in a new life in a new city. The things I cannot live with out must be those whose story is not finished with me yet. Maybe that is how I will sift the wheat from the chaff.
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