My imagination has been such an active part of who I am. I'm fascinated by what may come. What could happen? What will happen? The past has always called to me as well. I've imagined hundreds of different lives and wondered what it would have been like to be one of those interesting women.
In recent years, I turned that imagination about the past into actual research about my own ancestors. It's been fulfilling and fun. There's still so much I haven't been able to uncover, so my search continues.
My home is filled with bits and pieces of memories. I've been reluctant to part with items which trigger such strong imagery and feelings, but I've done quite a bit of parting over the past year or two. Yesterday I began going through some boxes of things. Odd assortments of photographs, vintage valentines, jewelry, knickknacks... junk to many, treasure to me. I still find it hard to separate the memories and the imaginings from the items. Is this what triggers all other keepers of things? Those labeled hoarders. Those disdained by the very neat and tidy masses? Thankfully, for me, it's not food or animals, but it's a wild assortment of so many other things.
My mama saved my first grade artwork, my dresses, shoes, even books which were left behind when I was sent to live with grandma and grandpa. She tucked them away in old suitcases and boxes, saving them for a day when we could look at them together and share a laugh and a memory. I don't know why I'm saving her treasures. I'll never get to sit with her, holding one in my hand and say, "Remember when..." or hear her giggle over any of it. When I do hold one of these things, I am transported back in a way nothing else can do. I'm there again, and she is with me, and my world seems a little more complete.
© 26Jan2016 ajj