WILL LIFE BE LESS BEAUTIFUL without the green shade banker’s lamp purchased for a Christmas production at a church I no longer attend? Or without the black sheer scarf from Singapore with iridescent rainbow-colored threads running along its five feet?
Will the weight of the memories attached to these things be lighter or disappear altogether once they are discarded? (Like the tree that falls in an empty forest.) Or will they birth new meaning for new owners in new forms?
Whatever the end of their stories, I will let them go.