"Boom! Crackle, Crackle, Crackle" I am awoken from a sound sleep. "Oh, Happy New Year!" I mumble to my roommate as he paces from window to window. I remember a different year and a different man glancing anxiously out of window after window.
I see a small girl, about 10 years old, in a closet. She has moved her table in, chairs, toys. She has made a small palette on the floor to sleep in. Her mother and grandparents beg tearfully for her to come out and join them at the dinner table or to watch some TV. The usual meltdown occurs and she stays in the closet. She remembers it is safer there, away from the windows.
It comes time for Roomy to move and he leaves most of his things behind. Why? I lose everything anyway, so I don't get attached. Just give it away to someone who needs it.
It comes time for me to move and I am packing carefully. I don't want to lose a single thing. I arrive at my new place and find a broken dish. I'm devastated.
I remember a different life. A full life that was pared down. You can't have that. Give that away. Take only what you can carry. Put what you can carry in the pile.
Roomy remembers too a different life.