Can you let go?
Moving, nostalgia, and chocolate fondue
I’m moving out of my first post-grad apartment. Yep, I’m writing this as the things I’ve collected over the last 25 years are strewn across my new apartment floor, in various bags and boxes.
Like any move, there’s a moment of reflection: “How the hell do I have this much stuff?”
Going through my closet, I find medals from races over the last two years, old university textbooks I can’t quite part with, souvenirs from friends’ travels, and a running singlet I’ve never worn but still can’t let go of.
All of these mementos capture moments of a life lived.
So…do we ever truly need to get rid of it all?
A reminder that it happened
As I pack: a Western bandana, a sweater from a friend I haven’t spoken to since graduation, my high school cross-country jacket: I couldn’t help but wonder, why can’t I let this stuff go?
Why does my chest tighten at the thought of that one sweater no longer being mine?
I think it’s because these mementos are proof that those parts of our lives existed.
They’re anchors to experiences we might otherwise forget. As our memories fade, or distance grows between us and those times, these objects give us something to hold onto. They can spark memories that photos alone can’t. Sometimes you need to hold an item in your hands, press it to your face, take a deep breath and think:
“Ah, yes. I remember when.”
But nostalgia gets tricky when you move into an 800 sq ft condo and start asking: “Where do I put all this?”
When is it time to let go?
One of my mom’s favourite words is “declutter.”
A couple of times a year, my dad and I (both admitted sentimental hoarders)would hear: “Please, please just donate that.”
And sometimes we would. My dad’s hole-filled shirt, which was older than me, eventually went. My third shirt from Springwater Conservation’s cross-country meet sat in my closet for three years before I let it go.
Travelling helps us feel more comfortable letting go. Living out of a backpack for a month, or meeting people who live with far less, makes you realize how little you truly need. It shifts your perspective.
So the question becomes: what’s actually worth keeping?
Do we have to be so rational about all of it?
The (irrational) travelling chocolate fondue
No matter how many times I move, some things always come with me.
One of them is a five-year-old can of chocolate fondue.
Yeah, I know. Stay with me for this one.
In the second year, one of my best friends, Milana, gave me a can of chocolate fondue from Chocolats Favoris in Montreal. It was a cute memento from our first trip together, when we were just two naive 18-year-olds exploring Montreal with no idea what the years ahead would hold.
Since then, Milana has pursued her dream of becoming a dentist (and has just finished her D2!), and I’ve pursued mine of closing systemic gaps in health equity (and accepted my first full-time role in social impact in April!). We’ve seen each other through breakups, big wins, disappointments, and the kind of long, late-night conversations that shape a friendship.
The fondue? We never ate it. It became a running joke. But it’s travelled with me through every place I’ve lived: two university houses, back home to St. Thomas, and now to my second Toronto apartment.
It’s more than a can of chocolate. It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come, of a friendship that’s lasted through every chapter, and a silly ritual that makes moving feel less like leaving and more like carrying something forward.
A final thought
No, I’m not telling you to keep a five-year-old can of chocolate in your pantry. But I am saying this: some things are worth saving, even if they make no sense to anyone else.
Why? Because those things don’t just remind you of where you’ve been, they remind you there’s still more ahead.
The best advice I have been given lately is not to compare yourself to others, but to your past self.
And when you need that reminder, grab the shirt from your high school team, the test your mom kept from grade eight, or the backpack that saw you through exams you thought might break you.
Hold it. Remember.
Ground to the strength of your past to give you the motivation to continue to chase what is ahead.
A few reminders of a life lived. Sometimes they need to escape the decluttering chopping block. (Sorry, Mom!)
