Of course it was drizzling a bit this morning and cold. I was making trips back and forth to the storage locker all day, moving my things into AMG and Ryan's basement to get the goods on display for the "binge and purge" party.
Going through all of my boxes with a ruthless "am I going to want this in 10 years?" attitude was what kept the "for sale" piles much much more plentiful than the "going into storage in my mom's basement" pile. But every box I opened flooded so many memories back to me, from my stemless wine glasses to my flour crusted cook books to my tattered pink feather boa. I remembered what road trip I bought those engraved glasses on, what gig I wore that skirt for, what used bookstore I bought that Timothy Findley book in. Every piece has a story, a little part of my history, a little part of my life.
It was a tough day. There were a few times when I couldn't help the tears that welled up in my eyes as I stared at a handmade mug or a handful of arctic cotton that I had carefully wrapped up from Baffin Island. I couldn't help but wonder what I was doing, getting rid of all these little treasures. But the truth is, I'll be gone for at least the next 4 years and likely a residency in the US (which tacks on another 3-5 after that). And I know, it's only stuff, but it has taken me years to acquire and attain these things, some of them from many different corners of the world.
Soon my friends were stopping by and putting their bids on my various belongings. The buzz of activity jerked me out of my 'how sorry for myself can I feel as I get ready to embark on the adventure I've been hoping for for so long' reverie.
It ended up being quite the evening. Verena just kept saying "This is so weird! You're getting rid of all of your things! This is sooo weird!"
Small bidding wars have started over things like my retro dressers and Ikea lamps. Tomorrow we'll finish up the not-so-silent auction and I'll take whatever doesn't go to the second hand store, the bookstore, and the dump. The nostalgic bits are heading back to the storage locker and then to mom's basement (again).
AMG's contractions are now 1 minute apart and they are off to the hospital.
New beginnings all around.