I am not good at throwing certain things away. I keep some things because I think that I might need them at some point in the future. I used to be a high school English teacher, and I have tons of stuff from those years, and I can't seem to bring myself to even go through it all, let alone dispose of it. I have boxes of stuff in the storage locker in the basement of my building. And there are more boxes of stuff still stored at my parents' house, which my mother has been nagging me to go through for years. The recent severe storm that blew through Pittsburgh on Wednesday night caused some flooding in my parents' basement. Some of my boxes got wet, so my mother really pushed me to go through them. Reluctantly, I decided to tackle the two boxes that had gotten wet. In one, I found papers and notebooks from my high school years. Just looking at the stuff brought back a flood of memories from those years. It was a little overwhelming. My high school years, like they are for most people, were full of varying emotions, from teenage insecurities to outright joy from time spent with good friends. My high school memories have always been difficult for me to think about. My memories are so vivid that they scare me sometimes. I still have lots of dreams where I am back in high school surrounded by people from more than twenty years ago. Anyway, I went through that box and threw out a bunch of stuff, but I also saved some piles of papers and notebooks that I wanted to go through more carefully at a later date. The other box contained a variety of things, including my collection of Pirate yearbooks from the 1970s and a little box of knickknacks that contained little trinkets that dated all the way back to elementary school. I found two little pins that said "Band" on them that I received in fourth and fifth grade when I played the clarinet (and not very well) in the school band. They took me right back to those years, and I found myself reminiscing over events from decades ago. It was difficult for me to see these things and throw most of them away. As my mother said, what was I going to do with these little things that I had already managed to live without for over thirty years. So, with some regret, I did throw them away. But by the end of the evening, I felt emotionally drained. It was a difficult process for me. I don't know whether these things are harder for me than other people, but I do know that I struggle with going through items from my past. And now even as I feel a sense of accomplishment because I finally went through two boxes, there are still a bunch of additional boxes waiting for me to tackle them. And I'm really not looking forward to it. I think some people genuinely enjoy going through things from their past and the memories that accompany them. I don't. But I guess it has to be done.