Unpacking...and sorrow
New view from where I live now Truth be told, I hate, hate, hate moving... but worse... the unpacking. This time though, there was a lot of hurt, anger and sorrow that came out of those boxes along with what was left of my life. I will be 53 toward the end of this month, and those 13 boxes of material and sentimental possessions are all that's left of my life. It isn't much...not really. No dishes, very little in the line of clothing, less than 2 dozen books, about a dozen nick nacks, important papers, computer supplies, 3 pair of shoes, all my photos that hung on the wall or were in photo albums (to conserve space, I stripped all the photos out of their frames and albums)...a nd my computer. My heart ached as I pulled various items out of the boxes...remembering what I once had, and what I had to leave behind. Eleven years ago, at the end of my last marriage, when I moved out, I had everything to restart a new household and home. When I moved in with my daugh...