One benefit to a long-term post-surgery recovery process is that you can de-clutter your apartment when the mood strikes. I’ve been discovering books, stationery, letters, stuff that I had forgotten about or thought I had lost all together.
Letters my father wrote before he got dementia.
A teeny cross, hand-painted in El Salvador–a gift from a friend who passed away decades ago.
And my official Girl Scout duffel bag from 1972, which I used on those awful troop camping trips when I felt ostracized and alone. I had so loved being a Brownie, but then we moved (as we did, every two to three years) and my new Girl Scout troop was not so friendly. I would leave after a year or so. And how is it that this dark emerald green duffel bag is with me today, 15 houses later?
Inside I find half a dozen bags. I can donate some of these to my local thrift store, but I also discover a beautiful woven bag with sturdy leather handles from Kenya–a gift from my boss, decades earlier. And a simple cotton book bag imprinted with my college name.
I am a bag lady, because I may need to pack up my belongings any day to move across county or state lines–as we used to do in my childhood. I’ll hold onto my duffel bag for now.