March 26. 2015
Today, just a tiny bag. Stuff I took out of a hot dog bun-shaped wicker basket I bought to house the remote. Instead of the remote, which was on the couch, it carried a random assortment of stuff like the cards you pick up at Starbucks, thinking you will download the app or the single off the new album, but you don’t. They expire too, I think.
But you know, I realized sometimes it’s about the stuff you don’t toss that is the meaningful contribution that day. I decided to keep all the children’s books. They remind me of the nights I read my babies to sleep and the delight on their faces when we bought them or had them signed by the authors. They stay. With apologies to the library, of course.
The theme is constant now. I am letting go of the shimmer and keeping the substance. The reflections and the fog are gone now and I have the things that matter to me. I’m not yet done but the difference, now that I have unloaded bags and bags of clothing, bedding, kitchen things, bathroom things, is just this: I have more of what matters and so much less of what doesn’t.
I am still handing out my little Baggies filled with the give-away shampoos and lotions and soaps from hotels. That collection is nearly gone. Tuesday, I handed one to a man begging on the uptown A train and a man standing near me asked what I had given him. He was someone who had worked with the homeless and I think he really liked the idea of giving out the spare soaps. It has made me want to keep collecting them after hotel stays – just so I can have something to contribute, since giving out any kind of real cash on the subway is not something I can do.
The Backpack Press 