Packing is not fun but the process often is. As Jessica packed up her old room, our youngest by the way who has not lived at home since she left for college 4 years ago and is now en route to Americorps in July, she had a two day journey down memory lane. Memories that bring tears to all our eyes. The idea of packing and leaving is so final. Especially a parents home. When I packed my mom up a few years ago after my father passed away, my sisters and I sat on the floor going through the remains of their lives. What do we really leave behind of value – value to the ones we love? Mostly the smell of Dad’s cologne – the pictures of our camping family days, letters and cards from the years he kept in his drawer next to his bed. His “stuff” — car, furniture were meaningless. We would drive past the old home now occupied by a new family. We stop and knock. They let us in and give us the tour. The frame of the house is the same — the “home” is not. Home is something we carry with us so I guess as we pack up this “home” .. as we put away all the picture memories, the spices used when I cook and make salad, all our cards and letters, we will effectively be taking our “home” with us. A markedly different home, but home nonetheless.
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