I recently posted a poem by my mother, Shänne Sands, to an ezine. The poem, I am a Collector of Useless Things, is a beautiful rendering on what you go through when you move and have to pack and unpack your entire life. All the memories that flood back, sad and happy, all the mementos that go hand-in-hand with those memories and how she felt dusting them and putting them into draws. I just rejigged my portacabin and had to go through a dozen boxes and found things I forgot I had and some of the items that were bought to assist my mother in her final years. Things I thought I would never want to see again and would never touch. But I did.
And inside I remembered how. like her, these things are all a part of myself.