I don't get to see my parents too often, so it was really nice to hang out and catch up with them all weekend. We had dinners together, went bowling, cleaned out the garage...wait, was that on my fun list??
I did have a lot of fun catching up with my family, and they had fun getting to know B and Miles a little better. While I was there, they made me go through all my boxes in the garage. (When I moved to Santa Barbara it was pretty last minute, so I didn't get a chance to properly go through my bedroom to get rid of crap I didn't want or need. So they boxed everything up and put it in the garage so they could turn my bedroom into an office.) This was, of course, a daunting task. One that my parents have been begging me to come home and tackle for quite some time now. My mom, being the wonderful and loving woman that she is, kept me company in that hot dusty garage-turned-storage-unit.
I already knew I was going to get rid of most of the stuff out there. I knew that a couple boxes had some keepsake items, and those I kept. (My parents are letting me keep a few boxes in the garage. A girl can't throw away everything she's accumulated in the first eighteen years of her life!!) I got rid of all my old clothes, shoes, etc. Junk I've learned that I don't need.
That's one great thing about getting older: you really do get wiser. College degree or not, life teaches you invaluable lessons that an expensive university education cannot.
Believ
e it or not, I actually had fun going through those old dusty boxes. All the photographs I've accumulated over the years that tell the story of my life were piled into a couple tattered cardboard boxes. There were pictures from my childhood in that garage that I hadn't seen in years! I kept running inside to show my brother hilarious pictures of us and our childhood friends - many of whom we are still good friends with. It was quite cathartic to see their faces again and briefly relive all those precious moments we shared in our innocence. I could go on and on for hours about those golden days, and maybe in some blog I will, but I found some other treasures in those boxes as well.I found a shoebox full of old notes - notes from my middle school friends, love letters from boys I used to know...aah, the memories came flooding back. My girlfriends and I had nicknames for each other (I assume this was to protect our true identities in case our juicy notes fell into the wrong hands), and in some cases I could not identify the author of said notes. Many of these girls I am still friends with; many, I am not.
I found notes from old boyfriends (or boys who desperately wanted to be my boyfriend). Some of them were expressing their love for me. Some were apologies for hurting me. I even found a poem that one guy wrote to me - it wasn't of high literary quality, but it was original and expressive - that prompted us to start dating. I found one from a guy friend with a complicated history. We're still friends today and we do keep in touch (unlike most of my actual ex-boyfriends), but this note really pulled on some heartstrings for numerous reasons I won't reveal.
Point being, boxes of memories - good, bad, funny, you name it - were piled in my parents' garage. I dreaded opening them, but now I am so glad I did. It was cleansing and refreshing and fun and it truly surfaced some emotions I haven't felt in a while. I've said it once, and I'll say it as long as I live: emotions are good for you! (Although like most things, IN MODERATION!)
Feel things!
Live!
Love!
Learn!
And keep a smile on your face while you do it :)
