A few years ago, shortly after my father died, my uncle in Connecticut sent me several large boxes of my things that were stored at his house. Among the packages were various childhood items--toy soldiers, plastic models, train sets, books, etc.--from when I was a very small boy. I had not seen most of these things for over 30 years.
I had been keeping much of it for the future, in the event I ever had children. But the prospect of fatherhood seems unlikely at this point. And anyway, as I get older, my desire for it diminishes. So over the last couple of years I've been getting rid of a lot of junk.
One of my girlfriends recently observed me throwing away some old toys. "Don't they hold any memories for you?" she asked.
"No," I replied. "I thought they would, but they don't."
It feels good to purge the past in this way. These days I'm inclined to travel light.
The future, as always, is conditional.