Letting go

Helped my parents clean out the storeroom.

There were the old black and white photographs of my gruff-looking grandparents, old german engineering magazines that my dad brought back from his overseas attachment in the 70's.
Then there were my things-

The badass supersoaker that was my weapon of choice against friends in the swimming pool. I was like 7? spraying wavering streams of chlorinated water with my unwieldly grasp.

The Sega Megadrive that was my reward in Primary 3 for doing well in the mid year exams, but would later cause my downfall :)

It was a chronological mess that hit me with waves of nostalgia. They're worthless now, but irreplaceable snapshots of my life from a different day and age.

My dad was reluctant to discard the dusty box of German magazines. " I might need them later," he tried to convince the rest of us, albeit unsuccessfully. "I'll get rid of them when I retire," he promised.

I looked at the relics from my past and decided they had to go. Granted they reminded me of long gone youth and innocence, but my childhood has already made me who I am, and clinging on, reminiscing old days, seems rather counter productive when I should be looking ahead. People are worth remembering, these things are not.

Because really, those memories were good, but I want better ones in time to come.