This tree change thing is slow going. I didn’t realise I had so much stuff. There’s my stuff, my friend’s (ex housemate) stuff, my other (departed) friend’s stuff plus’s Dad’s stuff and the ‘its been in the family for years’ stuff. And I have to sort it out and downsize! My little cottage in the country doesn’t have much storage and honestly I don’t want all this cluttering mylife. But it is hard to let go.
Emotional attachment, even when it is screwy is hard to deal with sometimes. For example, I don’t really need my Mum’s baby doll. She kept it but never got it repaired and now 19 years after her death I have it in my flat. It’s from the 1930s and is lovely but I don’t collect dolls. Can I let it go? Apparently not yet.
The photos are easy. I’m keeping them, they’re already in the new place. Some gracing the walls in new frames. A photo cube album in the corner and more frames to fill.
The family tinsel Christmas tree moved right in. It’s cute, small and has lovely memories. It’s from the 1950s.
The books? I have so many and culling them is hard. One book at a time. It can be hard but not too emotional.
My main problem stems from the little bombs I come across when I am sorting through all the other stuff. The cute but crappy cat blankets that my Dad kept on giving me or the ‘real’ gems in cheap plated settings that came from some mail order company that became my birthday presents (whether it was my birthday or not). A notebook written in a familiar hand that starts the tears be it Dad’s hand or one of my friends. They’re the hurdles that keep me in the city.
I’m jumping them albeit slowly. I will move into my little country cottage soon. Just not as soon as I thought I would.
Silkchord 