I'm finally home. Got home last night after midnight. I literally spent almost all day yesterday packing and cleaning. I honestly had no idea that I had that much stuff. It's a good thing I didn't go home and get my little sunfire like I had originally planned and just had my parents bring the van up, because there is no way I would've been able to fit everything in my car. It would've literally been impossible. I would've had to go to walmart and buy a car-top carrier or something. That or make two trips. Just what I want to do. Spend a total of 6 hours commuting back and forth between home Ball State.
If packing all this crap was exhausting, imagine my thrill in unpacking it. It's why I'm blogging right now. I had to take a break from it. Funny thing is, this past semester I used cleaning as a form of procrastination from writing. Now I'm using writing to procrastinate from cleaning. Ironic, right?
Anyways, my goal is to get everything packed and put away today. And in doing that, it means I'm going to need to eliminate some stuff. I realize I have many clothing options of which I never choose. I also have a ton of just plain crap that needs to go as well. Today will be a day to check this off of my summer to-do list.
As I'm slowly starting to sift through all of my belongings I realize I have a lot of little things from my past that I need to dispose of. Like beanie babies. Remember those? They were popular and suppose to be worth a ton of money someday. Well if that's the case, it'll be for some lucky person who buys my old ones from goodwill. There are also a ton of little toys and knick knacks just chilling on my shelves. I never look at them or use them for anything other than taking up space. Those will go as well.
But as I started putting clothes away in my closet, I came across this little purple little suitcase from my childhood. It's one of those suitcases shaped like a briefcase, and considering it was for a little kid it's the actual size of one. On the front is a faded picture of a little girl and above it the words "going to grandma's" that rainbow over it.
Every time I come across that little suitcase I contemplate getting rid of it. And every time I hold it in my hands, look over it, and put it back. Every time I realize that I don't need it and I have no use for it. But every time I hold it I put it right back where it was.
I just can't part with it. I don't know why I haven't been able to admit that before, but that's the truth. It's just a little item from my past I can't get rid of. I have no use for it and it isn't really that significant. But for some reason, every time I hold it, I feel like I'm 5 again going to grandma's and I put it right back in the closet.
I guess to me it seems if I were to get rid of it I would be disrespecting my past. That sounds odd but that's really how I feel about it. To throw it away or donate it means it's no longer needed nor wanted and it has no use for my life anymore. Which is the truth. But for some reason that subliminally translates as "you're grandparents are gone and it's time to move on." My grandparents are gone. But I don't know if there is such a thing as moving on.
I still love my grandparents even though they're gone. I still hold onto that suitcase even though I don't need it. It's funny how items can often take on meanings in which they were never meant to be. That suitcase is just a suitcase. But for me, it is s symbol of my childhood and the love between my grandparents and I. That suitcase was not meant to be used for more than 5 years I'm guessing. It's been hanging around for more than 15. It was never meant to be anything more than a bag to transport my toys and stuffed animals from Fairfield to Pittsburgh. Instead it became a tool to trigger flashbacks and memories from my youth.
Today however, after putting my suitcase back in the closet, I decided I would put it to good use. It isn't the only thing around here that I have trouble parting with. There is a watercolor painting of Pittsburgh that I took from my grandparent's house
after they died. It had been hanging in the room my sisters and I stayed in for who knows how many years. I couldn't leave it. There's the pretty little clock. It doesn't work but when you wind it up it makes the loveliest little ticking sound. There's a ballerina decoration. And the shot glass from my cousin's wedding with the candies still in it. Things I haven't touched but won't part with. All of them, among all of the other things I'm sure I'll come across, will go in that little suitcase. It's time to suitcase the memories. And unfortunately go back to unpacking.
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