that one bin

Smitty and I have been sharing my one bedroom apartment since July. We lived together before, sharing slightly closed quarters, but for only a month. Now, she lives in the kitchen "dining room" we call the nook. It works, and it's definitely cheap. But really, how long can two people share a one bedroom apartment? Apparently six months...

After looking around at houses and even a few other apartments, we decided the easy, quick, and most logical solution for the time being was to move into a two bedroom apartment in the complex we are already in. We know we like it already, the location is convenient for both our jobs, we can walk across the street and stalk Eric, and best of all it's bigger and not much more expensive!

I first moved out in the summer of 2003, and since then have accumulated six storage bins of random things I just keep throwing into the storage closet without looking at. Purses, fake Hawaiian leis, my ten year old journal, old greeting cards.... all things that fill my need to remember the past and feel historical, but continue to take up space and serve no real practical purpose. So, yesterday, I finally brought myself to dig through them and purge.

And purge I did.

Of those six bins, I condensed the memories of my childhood and adolescence into one storage bin and emptied out the other five. Eight garbage bags were filled with books, the purses, collectibles I used to put in my room and the old sets of bathroom and kitchen decor I have grown out of. I also threw away five garbage bags of junk no one ever needs to see. Although, I did look through it all and laughed to myself reading through old letters from friends. Once I had thrown the garbage out, I knew that if I was really going to get rid of all this stuff, it was now or never. If I slept on it, I would find silly and ridiculous reasons to save some of it. I put the bags in my car, got my keys, and drove to Goodwill. Since most of the bags were drawstring plastic bags, they were closed enough that I couldn't see what I was handing over. But two of the bags were paper, and they had things sticking out of the top. Once I handed all the bags to the nice guy working there, I got in my car and looked in my rear view mirror. I saw the bags sitting on the top of their giant bin, and saw a few of my possessions as I drove away.

Suddenly, my brain filled with images of all the things I had just given up and the memories that came with each. The preteen fiction books I got when I got my wisdom teeth out, the matching set of bathroom decor from my first apartment, old candle holders I used to treasure and put everywhere...I had to keep driving. I'm kind of a sucker when it comes to things that bring back memories. I don't want to forget the things that made me who I am, because they also help explain who I am and give me a sense of "right" in my life. Many of those things were given or bought at huge changing points in my life, while some were just half hazard purchases to fill up space. Either way, I lived with them and they became part of my life in some way. For a sentimental fool like me, that's hard to give up, no matter how well I know that things are temporary and stuff isn't lasting.

The few things I did keep in my one storage bin are enough to fill that need I get every now and then to remember. My childhood journal, the first Care Bear I ever owned, some old letters and cards that I just couldn't let go of, random school projects and a couple pictures that mean something special to me. They span twenty some years of my life, and for those moments I get a little nostalgic, they will be in that one bin waiting to remind me of the small and the not so small things that happened and helped shape the person I am now.