My Treasured Chest

I can't believe it's not butter

What exactly is left behind when we move on to a new lifestyle?  This question hit home for me last week when a health issue sent me to the Breast Surgical Oncologist.

My left breast.  It took up a lot of room.  It was no longer useful.   I couldn’t sell it.  I wouldn’t donate it.  It was only the memories attached to it that I really wanted.

But when push came to shove, I couldn’t imagine having to part with it.  Or part with part of it.  Unless I was dying, I wanted to keep it.  And so I did.

Fortunately, the surgeon agreed and I came home with it and found the perfect spot to give it the honor it deserves.  I will take it with me when I leave here, knowing that I will always be able to revisit the decision at a later time.

But the sewing machine… that really has to go….

 

 

Author: lessmuch

shoving a hoard into a tiny house

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