I was looking for my apron today when I realized it hadn’t made the trip to Malaysia with me.  When we moved we were ruthless in culling what we considered “superfluous” possessions.  The idea was to travel as light as possible and not have to deal with the hassles of a shipment.  Our rationale at the time was that whatever we would need, we would need immediately, and whatever we didn’t have we wouldn’t miss.

So we did travel lightish (20 checked bags) and didn’t have to deal with any hassles regarding paperwork, shippers, and the rest of it.  But then there are times like today when I miss my apron.  Rationally I probably shouldn’t.  After all an apron is an apron is an apron.  Except this wasn’t just an apron.  It was my apron.  My Winnie the Pooh apron with the words “Why Can’t Flies Make Their Own Sandwiches?”  I’d had it since I was a wee little one helping my mom around the kitchen.

I think I rationalized getting rid of it by thinking that I never used it anymore.  After all it was way too small, so what would have been the point of traveling half way around the world with it?  What I didn’t expect was the emotional attachment to it, and this has only come about after many months.  Perhaps because not having it makes me associate losing my childhood memories?  Losing a part of myself in the past?  I don’t know.  It’s something I wonder about.  The physical possession or lack thereof should not having any implication on my ability to relate with my past – but it seems like it does.  Anyhow, now I need to keep searching for another apron!

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