Things left behind

   As I have grown older, I have done two things that strike me as absurd. (Not the only two things, absurdity-wise, however.)

   I shopped too much, thus acquiring too much. And I've edited too much, thus getting rid of, well, maybe not too much, but perhaps stuff that could have weathered a more critical, and less fanatical, getting-rid-of-stuff eye.

   I wish, I wish, I wish that I had so much time back. Like the hours that I spent browsing  record stores in Columbus, Ohio, flipping through the vinyl late one, or any, night after class, after dinner or studying. Trying to decide which LP was worth my five bucks.

   Oh God. All that time, and now I wish I didn't have all those LPs. They are old, ancient. Their covers are worn and scratched by cats.

   We moved on to cassette tapes, to CDs, files on the computer.

   And yet.

   Playing those old records reminds me now, so many years later, of who I was. I like that. I realize I don't want to cast away my old, or should I say, young, self. Everything that I had, that I bought, that I considered, was a function of a person learning and growing.

   So I think I will stop trying to discard the trappings of my younger days. Because they were builders of the person I am today.