Our Lives In A Memory Box

With an imminent house move coming up we are starting to pack up our belongings in readiness. Packing away the little things that aren’t used often or the things that we may not look at again for a number of years. Those memories of ours that a picture, a book, a cuddly toy or an ornament bring springing forward to the front of our minds.

Some people may ask why we bother to keep them or suggest we might be hoarders but these little things are important to me. The children’s work books from school, the pictures they have drawn or the special birthday cards that they have received all hold memories and good memories are so important.

If you have read my blog previously you may have read that my ex-husband was assaulted and suffered a head injury which affected his memory. He could find information in his mind if he didn’t need to think about it but if you asked him for that information directly he couldn’t find it. For example – he would use my name in conversation but if I asked him “what’s my name?” he couldn’t tell me. We used photographs to help him on his road to recovery. Photographs of the cats, our holidays, his football team, his love of music and they slowly and surely helped him recover much if his knowledge.

Memories are so very important. Both the good and the bad ones personify us. They are the reason we are who we are and they mould us for our future. They inspire us to do or be better than we are or they hold us back from going down a road that may not be the best one for us.

One day we may need those little items to prompt our memories. When our brains have stored them into little boxes to make room for all the hussle and bustle of daily life. On that day I will open a box and I will sit and smile at the little leter my daughter wrote for me when she was 4 or I will feel heart-warmed by the Easter card my son made for me when he was only 2.

I don’t care if you think I am a hoarder because one day those reminders may be my only memories.

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