We're caught in an era where everything is replaceable -- people, relationships, objects, memories. When loss happens, restoring contentment is merely a click or a credit card transaction away. People are fearful of making connections that last or to becoming attached to anything in the remotest way. It is far easier to find something new -- or rely on the idea that something better will come along -- than to accept the idea that something is unique, and then suffer its loss.
While I believe in the hackneyed, go-to mantras that help us "move on," my nature is usually to be stubborn about things. I like the originals. I like my first loves. I hold on firmly to memories, and bemoan about them relentlessly to the exasperation of others. I'm a keeper as much as I can be without approaching the ranks of Chinese packrat clutter.
Anyway, it is just a difficult concept for me to grasp. How long do you hold on before it becomes unhealthy? How much do you hold on to before you are just closing yourself off? Letting go, even when you have to, is overrated.
On the bright side of things, I received so many things in the mail this week. All told, packages came from Fresno, New York, Texas, and Massachusetts. Admittedly, two of those packages contained the stupid ponies I ordered. But the other things really were like Christmas in January. To be fair, the ponies do look fantastic on my windowsill.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:45 PM
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