Packing Life into Boxes

“Home is where the heart is, even if you can’t remember what box you packed it in.” ~ Unknown

Packing up a life, especially one that has spanned 16 years in the same house, is difficult.

I don’t have a lot of sentimental attachment to “things” per se. I have memories which I will cherish waaaay more than “stuff.”.

When I bought my current home I was in the process of divorcing an abusive spouse. This house is filled with memories of the struggles and eventual success of freeing myself from that upside-down relationship.

Enter stage left. . .the next husband. Ever so helpful in the front he projected, all the while doing his level best to (quite literally) destroy my home as he lived in it. The furniture, the decor, the renovations and the reasons behind them — leave a bitter taste in my mouth. This was my dream home and it became a nightmare.

A few items I have bought since we divorced will go with me. A solid oak pedestal table that was mine before I was married goes with. A small cabinet. a lawyer’s bookcase that belonged to my maternal grandmother. My antique sewing machine I just bought. Christmas decorations.

Everything else is just “stuff” with memories attached that I don’t care to haul with me. Much as I hate holding garage sales and yard sales, there will be a moving sale.

A fresh start deserves fresh memories. New beginnings deserve new “stuff.”

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