One of the benefits of living a transient life is that I tend to forget what I own. My belongings have been spread out between states, houses, and rooms over the past three years. I've developed an annual tradition of spending an afternoon or evening in my grandparents' basement opening and closing box after box in order to remind myself of my forgotten treasures.
A week ago I made the pilgrimage to Fortna Dr on a Sunday evening. I spent an hour sitting on the cool cement floor discovering some of my "old friends". Buried in the dust, I found:
- a globe
- a bread machine
- my college bat bag, metal spikes, and ball gloves
- a travel size bible
- an apron with my name stitched on the front
- a pouch of arrowheads
- a photo of me and my hermit crab, Gretel
I don't enjoy all aspects of being the nomadic one of the family. And having to re-inventory my life every year, isn't necessarily a joy. However, the hour in Grandpa and Grandma's basement was a journey back in time and it was good. Good to be reminded of important moments, people and gifts.