After 40 years, my parents are finally cutting back, emptying out, getting rid of things. They are consolidating for their new life in their new house by the water. As tbey dig out of their old house in Mystic, unloading a lifetime of forgotten boxes from the attic, the barn, the shed, parts of my past life are resurfacing.
I have moved so much in my life, and things just get too heavy. So I traveled light, leaving things along the way. Pictures, friends, possessions. I always meant to go back and reclaim, but I never did.
So how strange when my parents handed me two boxes this past weekend, to find a record of my life all stored in bags in perfect detail. I could hole up for a weekend and go through them all. There were pictures of me as a midshipman, on my plebe year cruise, in uniform and on my LKA 117. There were pictures of me at Wellesley, with my roommates and friends, hooprolling and just lying around in my messy dorm, lip synching and being crazy. There were high school prom pictures, high school musicals, camping trips, tennis matches. There were pictures of me in Japan, dressed in kimono, learning tea ceremony, a giant gaijin in a strange land. There were pictures of me with Athena in Asia, on the beach in Thailand, with Indonesian guitar drivers and Bangkok tuk tuk drivers, in Jaipur, Delhi and the path to Anapurna, with marigolds all around. There were old boyfriends nearly forgotten and friends I will never see again. And there were pictures of Natalie, leading us around Kyoto, her hair still long and golden, wearing her hiking boats, in high anthropological/leader mode.
It was my life in a shoebox.
December 10
8 years ago
1 comment:
When the trash went out on Tuesday - the bits you didn't want to keep - your father pulled out a pink strap, like a bottle carrier, and your father fished it out and said "shall we keep this". NO was your mother's response. It can be hard to clear out in this family!!!
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