I am sitting in my house in Maryland… the movers come in 6 days and my task is to get ready. Alas, with all of the life changes occurring the time leading up to today has been filled with phone calls that include “what about X, do you want it?”
I’m preparing to move from one household to two. In those two households, there will be less space available than there presently is in the single house. The majority of the items are going to one of the homes, with only a few select things going to the other. Generally, in such situations as mine, there is an equitable split of the household, but I am just not interested in the fight that often creates. I don’t need the couch or the chairs… I couldn’t care less about the towels, pots or pans. It’s all just “stuff.” I can buy more stuff. I don’t even like a lot of the “stuff” here. Unfortunately, there IS some stuff that I want that has been destroyed in a bitter fit of “he’s such an asshole.”
Gifts that have been given are the property of the one who receives it, all other items are owned by BOTH parties… and the few little trinkets I wanted have been thrown away. “I didn’t want it, it was a reminder of ‘us’,” she said. I don’t really see it that way, and honestly, that’s not necessarily a bad thing in my mind anyway. There was one particular item that I really wanted that we had purchased in Germany. We used to purchase wine that a store made. They were very fruity tasting and many of them were good. We so frequented this store, that I bought a stand that you placed the bottle in and it was surrounded by 5 little wine glasses. It didn’t remind me of “us,” it was a reminder of the 3 years I enjoyed in Germany… of the good times with friends… of the amazing places I went and things I saw. Well, she threw it away because she didn’t want it. Thanks for making that decision for me…
Alas, that’s not the daunting part. I have several boxes of Army “stuff” I have accumulated over my 20 year career… books, equipment, comfort items I bought to make my life easier. Those boxes are the problem.
The books are outdated. The equipment is no longer authorized. I don’t need the comfort items anymore, my days of going on military exercises and training events are gone. No more fights for me… That is what I am having trouble dealing with. The boxes are large and full. I am confidant that I could just drag them all straight to the curb and let the garbage man take them entirely. For the most part, I’ve not gone into them in years. I don’t think I can do that though.
I am headed into the basement to sift through them… to remove each item from its home and relive the memories, ponder the friends that made those times so fun. It’s a task I have pondered and procrastinated, but it’s one I must now accomplish.
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…”
And only once more.