Packing

I apologize in advance for belabouring this moving thing but tackling my clothes closet has been more of an emotional roller-coaster than I anticipated. I have taken items in and out of the donate bag dozens of times, before steeling myself to finally and eternally let them go. And all the while, rolling through the back of my mind is the central gnawing thought that this is about something more than moving onto a different place. I am literally doing the job someone else would surely be tasked to do at some point sooner than I anticipated, of painfully sorting through these pieces of fabric without me. Try as I might to push these thoughts away - my tired body won't allow it tonight - it wants to feel sad, leaking eyes and all - and I suppose that is just the way it will have to be. It seems like such a ridiculous thing to consider this gluttony of goods a problem or give them any meaning at all - but I keep stumbling across items long forgotten...my Papa's crucifix that was passed onto me when he died years ago, pictures of my nephews when they were babies, ticket stubs from concerts I barely remember attending, cards full of messages from colleagues from several of my many good-byes...they stop me in my tracks - force me to pause mid-motion and consider where I've been, what I can't bear to part with, what I will leave behind when I go.