26. Packing Boxes, Filling Holes

This is how it is done: Move in. Unpack your things, pausing as you open each one to remember its origin, its kind benefactor, or the memories it hefts along. Put the things in new places -- some visible -- where they "belong". Acquire new things, and new memories. Settle in.

As each thing gets tucked into its place, each wall takes its colour, and each seedling starts to take root, reverse: Rid yourself of certain things you no longer feel are required to induce memories you're not entirely sure you'll hold onto into your old age, but either way are not beholden to some limp teddy bear or golden rose for protection. Rid yourself of other things you do not need but have somehow acquired, slimming down for some new and brighter, lighter life on the other end of the moving truck. Pack your things into boxes, pausing with each one to note it's imprinted memory or particular joy.

Stand back. Survey your life--it is a sea of brown boxes. Can it be so contained? Will your memories be able to breathe in there? Look about. Clear out the dust, and clean the fridge. Wash out the having-been-here of you.

Last turn through, spackle the holes. Fill them up and ready the place for a new set of lives and memories. Turn inward. Observe the holes of a million imprints of smiling friends and funny neighbours. Those holes remain--my precious having-been-here.