A piece I wrote about the emotions and stress of packing before a big move

Cardboard boxes, black trash bags, and piles of old possessions
clutter the warm, open living room of this familiar home.
Digging through the collections of forgotten nostalgia,
I pause at each item, remembering how important
they used to mean to me in the years of my past.
Trivial trinkets that trick me into exaggerating their worth
when in reality, I haven't touched or thought about them in years.
I need to remember, we're downsizing in this this move across the city.
There's no place for bulky souvenirs that serve no purpose now.
A quick picture and then it's turned over to the trash,
never to be held or played with again in this lifetime.
The useful tools and memories can stay, wrapped up in boxes
marked with a sharpie to explain whose it is and where it goes.
Some of it is not easy to tell if its useful in the moment,
do I keep this or let it fade away from memory forever?
There is a sort of bitter sweet feeling of outgrowing my youth.
Do I need my yearbooks or the metal goblets from the 1995 King's Feast?
A jersey signed by all my teammates the year we won state?
No, all those go to the trash bin to make room for more important matters.
Still, it's an exciting time to be packing up for this big life-changing move.
A new house and new adventures await at the turn of the weeks.

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