I moved across the country when I turned twenty-one after a long and painful breakup with an ex-boyfriend. I ended up in California with only two suitcases and a dream that my life could only be better than what it was. It has been almost three years now, and those two suitcases wouldn’t even begin to fit a quarter of what I have acquired. New clothes, unique furniture, and endless boxes full of new memories to fill my beautiful 1940’s style apartment. I have everything I could ever need, and so much more. It is really amazing how I started out here with the bare minimum and have since been able to fill a two-bedroom apartment with every single thing you could imagine getting when you move somewhere new.

I’ve changed apartments across Los Angeles five times now, and I’ve managed to have enough stuff to fit it all into 10x10 storage unit with no room to spare. That sure is a far larger amount of space than what my suitcases could fit.

When I moved out of my parent’s house abruptly and decided to not travel home for over an entire year, they decided to redesign my bedroom. That meant that everything was packed up, organized, and placed together based upon relativity. All the books went with the other books, and the socks with the other socks and all the jewelry with all the other jewelry.

When I lived at home I had a certain system for all that stuff, especially my jewelry. After some time, some jewelry becomes unwearable. Whether it’s tarnished or the clasp is broken, some pieces are just rendered useless. I have the habit of throwing them into a bag or box and storing it away in the depths of my closets.

I’ve been back to visit my parents house a few times. Every time I’ve been home I’ve somehow been able to bring a few things back in those same two barely-zippered shut suitcases. Whether it was forgotten clothing or lost socks, I found an excuse to fly it across the country with me.

Along one of my trips, I brought back a random bag of jewelry that was unorganized and a total mess. I figured that I would find the other feather earring and the blue native American ring that didn’t make my first trek out west. After a few days of being in my apartment, I unpacked my suitcases and sat down and looked inside of this bag of jewelry. Sure enough, the feather earring and the ring was there, but so was something else.

I dumped out the bag on the floor, and amongst the chaos laid a forgotten diamond necklace and a designer watch that were presents from that old flame that I had run away from.

With tears in my eyes, I was instantly struck with painful feelings and a flash of bad memories. I looked at these pieces in my hands like a prisoner would look at down his handcuffs: ashamed and haunted.

How could these two pieces of expensive jewelry make me feel so horrible inside when once they brought my joy? Well, at some point in time I gave each some type of sentimental value, and they became symbols, objects that reminded me that I was loved, admired, and in a way- special.

Unfortunately, after much reflection on these presents, I learned that the watch was actually a “guilt gift", after he and my “best friend” decided to do the tango. I didn’t realize it until he came clean of when things had happened, but the watch was picked out shortly after. It really baffles me how he thought buying me an expensive watch was making up for anything at all. But, that’s another story. Since then, I’ve tucked both pieces far away, in another box, to deal with another day. I was too weak to bear even looking at the time on that watch, for it had felt like minutes ago everything happened to me.

Flash forward to today, about a good year and a half later, I am cleaning out dresser drawers, emptying closet space and selling designer clothing that I have no use for. I stumbled upon this box, hidden in the corner, and I knew what was inside. I finally know now that I am ready to let it all go, to embrace the fact that the past is definitely the past, that I have no lingering or ill emotions towards the guy, or the jewelry. These two beautiful pieces of art will never be worn by me again, for they serve as landmarks and symbols of what my life was like before those two suitcases followed me here.

I have decided that their value to me is useless, but they can be valuable to someone else, who will look and admire them for what they are. I’m sending them off to be someone else’s treasures, and I in return I’m going to a five-day music festival with the pocket-change. I am a free spirit, and you will never bind me with your chains.

xo, Linds