Purifying, ie. Saying goodbye.
Since I am in the process of moving back home, I'm cleaning out and tossing away as I go. I figure if I moved it to the apartment and didn't wear it for a year, then I probably don't need it and why move it back. Just takes up space and think of all the great replacements I could find. Gone are the last few remnants of highschool clothing. I didn't like the sweater then, I certainly don't like it now. So in my bedroom is a stack of the unwanted and unloved (although some were loved but my baby-waiting curves don't love them).But. There is this one that I just can't part with yet. A plaid flannel shirt. I don't know why I still have it. No one even wears flannel anymore. I haven't worn it in ages. It's seen quite a number of years but yet there it hangs. I don't recall any major memory attachment to it or any significant event surrounding it that entitles its persistent existence. My hand touches it to add it to my castaway pile, but it quickly retreats. Maybe I need it present to keep my style realistic. Deep down in my heart maybe I'm still a flannel girl. Maybe it's a psychological craving for simplicity and my younger years. Or maybe it's a tangible reminder of my undying love for campfires.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home