Stuff

Everyone comes with stuff.  I sometimes think that it would be wonderful to get rid of all my stuff.  But there are some things that just hold so much sentimental value, I have a hard time letting go.  When I moved to the greater Boston area almost nine years ago, I only brought what I could fit in my car.  There were several boxes that got left behind.  Things that had sentimental value, but that I didn't need right away.  Over the years I was able to pick some of it up.  But there were several boxes and a trunk that were in the a attic.

Over the past few months my father has been busy re-doing the half-bath downstairs.  Somehow this project triggered his need to re-wire the house, and while he was at it, he decided to wire for ceiling fans in the bedrooms.  When he went up into the attic, he noticed my boxes, and not knowing what they were, he pulled them down.  After realizing that they were mine, he so thoughtfully decided to mail them to me, the week of Thanksgiving. 

Considering these boxes were packed to be stored, not shipped, there were several items that were broken.  I can deal with broken chotchkies, and even some of my ceramic bowls that I made in college.  The thing that got me was my doll house.  My mom put it together for me.  It took her two years to put it together.  She would work on it for a little while and take a break.  The doll house was in a box that was too small for it, to begin with.  Then to ship it half way across the country, did it in.  Rob told me that he could try to put it back together for me.  Unfortunately, it is broken beyond repair.  I almost wished that my father had just thrown it all away.  After all, it is just stuff.