I was a pack-rat as a child. I kept everything. Used Lip Smackers, random school papers, photos, notes, the list goes on. I held onto memories with a tight grip. I loved the idea of keepsakes; a small memento to tuck away to remember a moment in time. When I moved into my first home with my husband, I visited my childhood home and went through tote upon tote upon tote of these special “mementos.” I trashed so many things that were once considered treasures and kept the really special items.
I have done this many times over the years, dwindling the number of totes holding my childhood. It’s funny what truly meant the world to me at one moment of time holds little to no value now.
Just a few weeks ago, I packed up our house to move. A move just 5.3 miles down the road, but a move nonetheless.
My husband looked at me and said something along the lines of our youngest never remembering his first house, or the fact that all three of our kids took their first steps in that house, or all the summers spent splashing in the pool.
“Aren’t you sad? You aren’t a sentimental person.”
Oh, but I am. But, over the years I’ve realized that a house is just a house and a moment is just a moment. Those memories of the first steps taken, the canon balls, the day we brought our babies home…they will remain with me long after we hand over the keys to that house. I have photos and videos of so many of those moments and more and those will remain with me to tell the stories of yesterday.
I love to reminiscence. I love to replay moments in time, especially when I get together with childhood friends. But, I don’t want to be sad. Those moments are all so special but what about all the moments to come? There will come a time when we can say, remember that first Christmas in the new house? Remember that one time…
