Treasures

 Sometimes I feel like a fire has gone through my life and now all that remains is me, a couple of dresses and box or two of things. I guess in a way it is true, minus the actual fire part.

A month ago, I went back to Basel to go through all my belongings that have been kindly kept by D in all the years since we parted. I was pretty ruthless about what I should keep and only came home with a bulging suitcase filled mostly with cheese (ha ha), photos, stones, a mushroom lamp, a few cherished necklaces, and a scarf.  I am unencumbered by life’s possessions which, on the one hand is quite liberating, but on the other feels very sad. Is that all I have amounted to? Am I really starting my life now with so few possessions?

I will be honest. It was hard to see my old writing desk and my glorious full-length mirror now the assumed property of Damien’s wife. I have no problem with her as a person but seeing my things just taken over was hard, especially when I would love to write at something instead of a bony kitchen table with the world’s worst seats. And my bed, O my bed. Such a beautiful, comfortable thing that held me and my dreams so tightly.  Such a place of joy and comfort. The bed I have now is actually nauseating. I can only sleep on the far-right side because the mattress and frame are so bad it makes me physically unwell to lie in the middle. But I couldn’t afford to bring those things back with me and I am at peace with it, mostly.

There are just two things that have been dwelling on my mind over this past month. My great-grandfather’s wooden chest that he made probably a hundred years ago. I noticed that it has been commandeered by someone in the building complex where D lives to hold Christmas decorations so at least it has meaningful purpose. The other thing is my crazy, blue chandelier. I am sad not to have that. I am sad not to have things that feel like an expression of myself.

But, you know, my poor mother has spent her life collecting lovely things and in the past month she was taken from her home to a hospital and now a nursing home and all her treasures are separated from her now anyway. So what is really the point of possessions in the end? Perhaps my treasures are what I carry in my heart and my mind. My memories, my experiences, my adventures, my love, my dreams, my hopes. I can take them anywhere and I can keep building on them, can’t I?

Mind you, it would be nice to have a bed comfortable enough to dream in again 😊