But i look at it what i "own" (if that term even really means anything) and i see history, stories, literature, journals, staples of my life. Things that remind me where I have been, where I am, and maybe where I am going. An old brick. Every journal with my constant metamorphosis, an old candle, my diploma, my dvds. Things that make me smile, other things that make me not want to. But all in all, my small history. My life, told in objects gathered.
And I suppose in the end, that's really all that stuff is. Our story, our likes and dislikes, notes to someone others may not know, and how we did things. Personally I am not one who likes to have a lot of stuff. I like simple, I like small. Either way doesn't matter. All the possessions in the world can't be taken with you, even though the ancient Egyptians tried. And what happened when those tombs of Pharoahs were opened? Dusty gold. Old parchments, and skeletons. That's life. That's the end.
I have always viewed life as a string. One that is finite and tied on both ends. And at some point that I do not know that string will be snipped and tumble down. I will be remembered in stories and in my children, my imperfections passed on to them, and maybe some good things, too (most will probably come from my wife). Either way, you can't bury me with all my earthly possessions, it'll cost too much money, and be too big of a hole to dig anyway.
I don't know what the point of this note is. Maybe it's to say it doesn't matter how much you own or have, you can't take it with you. But you already know that. Maybe it's to say that our stories will be passed on by what we have/had. Or maybe it's just too cold outside to do anything. I can't wait for you to be here.
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