I packed up the last of the memories of x and I and sent it over to his house in a box. The dream was of me packing it all, collecting it from the corners of my house.
Photos, from high school all the way through 2006 (when it really got bad and I stopped using a camera). Hundreds of pictures, from the time he was 15....my son's age, now. My wedding dress. The cake-topper I hand-made. Our toasting glasses. Christmas ornaments, collected as reminders of events in our lives, of things we each liked (mostly Hallmark, ones collected on trips, etc.) His old letterman jacket and wrestling sweatshirt. The wedding album and video tape. I kept a few pics for the kids when they get older and packed them away for them in their own keepsake boxes. The letters and cards I saved for 20+ years. The torn-out page of my high school yearbook that he wrote on, ending with one of his many marriage proposals.
I woke up wondering what he would do with all of this stuff, if he would look at any of it or just bring it to the dumpster at work. And realized that it doesn't matter. What the hell do I have it all here for? Time to go...
