I imagined that I could start the month by letting go of all of the things I no longer needed. If not all, at least some. There were the obvious ones that were easy to let go off after so long. The old wedding pictures, except for one with me and my dad. The things that the kids had told me they did not want after they moved out. The two dozen mismatched coffee mugs that I never used. It was harder to let go of things I had made. I left the drawings and paintings to the last. Which should I keep? I asked myself looking at the pile left on the bedroom floor. Everything else except the bed frame had been moved already to the new place. I picked two pieces, and bagged the rest of them. I left it all at the curb of my old apartment, knowing that today it would be picked up by the garbage truck. I drove to the city afterwards with a mix of lightness and despair that I knew would sit with me for some days. I am still letting go.
I want to be light. I am watch the sun climb its way up higher into the sky this morning, stepping over roof tops and tree limbs to sit basking in the clear blue sky. I want to do that and climb over the remnants of the past that I brought with me, thinking oh maybe I will need that in order to get through the day. Really I don’t. I need only to get up in the morning, climb into the sky and let the day do what it does to feel lighter. Not that looking back and having memories is a bad thing of course. I don’t think they are. I like to look back at old photographs from time to time, and while I sometimes don’t remember the actual moment the picture was taken, I can see familiar faces. Except for the box that I went through last night. I opened it, thinking that it was filled with something else. I was fully prepared to chuck everything inside into garbage bags, because I thought it was something that I could easily be rid of from my past, except that it wasn’t. It was filled instead with old photographs from my birth mother’s family that I did not remember having. Old photographs of people I did not know from her family, photographs of me as a child, of my brother and sister, of my cousins, aunts and uncles. I don’t even remember how I came to own these photographs, but they are amazing. Going through each one it felt like opening petals of a flower. A past a barely knew. I will get smaller boxes to hold the photos to keep them safe. Slowly I will make digital copies and share them with my cousins to find out who some of the people are because I don’t know them. I want to. I need to look through this window to know.
My stomach tells me that I need to eat. I need to make coffee as well, although I have not had much this week because I have not been feeling well. Maybe I will make another cup of tea instead. Then the day will really begin.
[ note: for the next week or so I will try to sit down and just write a page or so of freefall. The gist of writing like this is that you write whatever comes up for about 10 or 20 minutes depending on how long you feel to write. Sometimes I might not share what is written – depending on what came up, but mostly I will. No promises on the quality. The main rule aside from writing what comes up, is that there is no editing allowed. What you see is what I just wrote. Grammar nerds… I’m sorry (but not really)]