Packing.

At this point I am just picking things up and putting them back down in different places.  I feel I have lost all grasp on where things belong.  I'm done trying to organize.  I have no idea where old birthday cards belong, or what one does with snap shots of bygone times.  I was never one to scrapbook per say, I more or less just keep things of sentimental value in a box. I have the beginnings of maybe 3 scrapbooks, but about halfway in I lose steam.  I'm wondering if this process is my hands-on lesson on letting go.  Perhaps it doesn't matter how many pages are filled, or how many collages are made. Perhaps the best way to store an experience is to not store it at all.  Instead, to live it.  To feel it. To breath it in, soak it up and let it run through me.  Then to let it go.  Perhaps it's not the amount of trinkets that fill a shelf, but instead....blink blink. There's that damn cursor waiting on me again.