What to do with the past? The present? Oh, don’t forget the future.
Do we take it with us? Toss it in the trash? Relive it?
I just don’t know.
None of this would have come about had my mom not been moving. Then the past would remain the past and it would pretty much only exist in the attic.
On a bit of an existential tangent here after two weeks going through 100+ boxes from the attic of my youth–and beyond.
But now she’s moving. Now I have to get that stuff out of there.
Oh, I should also go through it. Because I don’t want to keep going through it and through it and through it over the years, the decades even and … what? Do what with it? Relive those old memories? Is that what we’re supposed to do with it? Learn from it? Forget it? Reminisce with old friends? Well, that’s fun. No, really. It’s fun.
What if we have no future? Or no future together? Is it then just the past and, “So, what are you up to these days.” Kids, school, job, travel … how much traffic was on the 405 this morning?
Tell me all, tell me some, tell me none?
I don’t live here anymore. I have another life far away. I had a life here. It was swell. No, really. But it’s over and I’ll never live here again. Is that weird? Is that hard to understand? We move on. No, we do, right? Was that a question?
Should we move on? What do we do with the past?
The future? Now, that’s easy. Got that going now–it’s what I spend my present moment on. The future is fun and adventure and … is it a repeat of the past?
Speaking of the present moment, I gotta go filter through some more boxes.
What to do with the past? The present? Oh, don’t forget the future.
