I worked at an office in Washington DC many years ago, and I remember people constantly putting files and magazines and documents on my desk with a note that said "File or Toss". Given a choice between alphabetizing something or throwing it away, I choose the trash can (circular file) every time.
This weekend I started packing. Yes, I am leaving the nest. I'll be vacating my home with The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz in search of myself. Hot Toddy has been elusive lately, even to himself. But I have great hope that I'll find him again.
The hardest part of moving is deciding whether to keep or toss. Should I hang onto this bandanna my dog wore or just toss it since I have three others that he wore? What about these ticket stubs from one of my many past loves?
I'm leaving behind everything my ex CT ever gave me. I'm so finished with that part of my life, I don't even want to look at the broken futon or old pots and pans or ripped sheets he gave me in the divorce. I want my own pots and pans and sheets.
Thor will be gone for weeks or months or years, who knows? I still have faith that he'll come back to me. That is, if I have anything to say about it. But, really, do I have anything to say about it? How much power do I really have to ensure I get what I want? I'm not so naive as to think that faith is always enough. That sounds cynical, I know. But forever is a broken promise I've heard before. Actions speak louder than words and only time will tell and crap like that.
In the meantime, I'll just keep packing and trying not to think. Or feel.