Memories. Boxes of memories. Gathered items collected over the span of her life. Pieces of her life carefully placed in boxes and moved from house to house, as she moved from town to town. Pieces believed to symbolize moments of her life. Pieces believed to be made up of pieces of her. Pieces believed to define her, as she is today. Irreplaceable pieces.
Year after year, more and more pieces were placed into boxes. Until one year, the flow of items making their way to the box lessened. She slowly stopped holding onto so many things to remind her of moments and experiences. She finally got to the place where these memory-filled items were merely baggage… a burden… things holding her back, rather than the precious mementos they once were.
She sat down. Put her freshly brewed vanilla tea on the table next to her. Turned off the TV. Didn’t bother turning on music. She started to slowly look through the boxes. One item at a time. One defining piece at a time.
Some pieces were cherished. Some had served their purpose. Some were sweet reminders of a sweet time. Others were reminders of a different lifetime. Reminders of the lies she told. The chaos she created. The fear she felt. The jealousy. The guilt. The hopelessness. Some were reminders of the person she tried to be. The person she made up in hopes of being loved. The perfect person no one could walk away from.
Some pieces brought back all the feelings that have long been lost and forgotten. Some brought back all that had been moved past and let go. Some brought the validation that not everything needs to be kept. Not everything still holds a purpose in her life. Not everything defines her as the person she is today.
Piece by piece, she let go of the items that once weighed on her mind. Letters, photos, mementos. She let go of the physical reminders of those who had walked out of her life. Those who had betrayed her. She let go of the physical reminders of the chapter of her life she never reads out loud.
The experiences have shaped her into who she is today. They are with her daily and serve her. The physical reminders aren’t needed anymore. She lets them go, one by one. Leaving the hurt, pain and guilt behind. She lays it all down. It’s not hers to carry anymore. It serves no purpose.
She looks up from the piles of paper. Her cold tea sits on the table where she had placed it hours ago. She exhales deeply.
Relief. Ease. Peace.
