The shelves in my condo are now empty of cherished books, photo albums and picture frames. All of it now resides in a storage facility a few miles from here.
A part of me whimpered when I secured the lock on that storage space now keeping my personal items safe and secure. I wish they were still here with me, not boxed up on the sixth floor of some sterile downtown warehouse. Looking at my barren shelves tonight, I can only imagine them as they once were, cradling so many beautiful memories and stories …
There is an emptiness, both literally and figuratively.
It’s strange to be leaving my condo in a few days, albeit temporarily. This has been my home for nine years. While I still haven’t found a tenant to live here while I take my self-initiated sabbatical, I do remain hopeful. Finding someone to help pay my mortgage will determine how long I can be justifiably be away without throwing myself into financial paranoia. Perhaps when that special person walks through my space — now stripped of my memories — he/she can imagine his/her own pictures, etc., perched atop the shelves.
On a positive note, clearing and boxing up my condo resulted in some wonderful discoveries, such as this birthday card written by my dad when I turned two years old. Finding this was just one of many “This is Your Life” moments — a bittersweet byproduct of having to pack up the tangible souvenirs of so many memories.