Written April 2009: Last weekend, Eddie and I moved into our new house. I found myself driving our CR-V jam packed with cardboard boxes, photo frames, and miscellaneous knick-knacks. As I attempted to look in my rearview mirror in an effort to make sure Eddie was handling the 26 foot U-Haul ok, I glanced at the pile of accumulated personal items. It should be noted here that I tend to hoard personal items that have any sort of sentimental or memory evocative attachment. Why? If you know me well, you would know that I have a less than perfect memory. I suppose I collect things to remember what I so often forget. These items fill in the gaps for me when my brain cannot recall it. Imagine if you will, my memory as a blank connect-the-dot game. Sad, perhaps, but true. It was then that it dawned on me... how my life is a pathway lined with or connected by these items. My yearbooks, elementary school journals, pregnancy clothes, mission photos, stuffed animals, Ben's baby clothes, Eddie's soccer jerseys... They all mark the path of our lives seperately and together. It's funny how moving makes you so nostalgic and "trunky."And I am left with questions: Am I the sum of these boxes? Do they make me who I am? Or am I greater than these parts?
