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Sentimental Value

Reading this story about things the border patrol threw away of migrants' belongings reminded me of an experience a long time ago. I was a young mother back then, with very slender means and much uncertainty in my life. I had moved several times in a few years, trying hard to hang on to a few items of sentimental value. Much got disposed off along the way for practical reasons, reducing the count of things to hold on to ever smaller with time. There came a point when there was literally one item that I really did not want to let go of. It spent time in the garages of my friends and family until I knew it could have a more permanent home. 

 Looking back, all of this was a very long time ago - or so it feels. When I visit the homes of those who have had more "conventional" lives and been lucky to be close to all their memorabilia, I feel a twinge of sadness. There are fragments of our lives that connect and make sense only when held together by small things that tell the story. In that sense mine  does not.
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