Jami Holds On

As I mentioned previously, I've been cleaning out the attic. I got stuck, though, on two boxes of memorabilia, for lack of a better word. Just plain old stuff, really, from my life that I couldn't bear to throw away. When we moved here (11 years ago) I had gone through the boxes and pitched a lot of it, and now I'm looking again. Intellectually it's easy for me to say that this is trash. But emotionally, I can't pitch it. And I should, I think The first thing I pulled out was a Christmas card from the girl that used to be my best friend. Or maybe more accurately I should say that I believed her to be my best friend. I haven't got up the courage to blog about her yet, it's just too personal, even for me. But I held this card and smiled, because I remember how I felt about her when she gave it to me. I remember the late night giggles and the secrets shared. I recall adventures and inside jokes and feeling like the most important person in someone's world. But that also leads me to the great betrayal, and the day I learned how little she cared about me. The heart-break of losing a childhood best friend. So why do I keep this card? I can remember all that without it. My sons won't cherish this card as a family keepsake, most likely, they'll never even hear her name. But I slid it back in the box, I glanced it and the few other items I could see, and I know I can't throw them out. I can't blame pregnancy hormones (though that doesn't help, I'm sure) because I couldn't throw these things away last decade either. Will I part with them in another 10 years, or will they still be in the box, in tact when my relatives clean out my things when I'm gone? When is it the right time to say goodbye to these things of yesterday?