Look Who's Packin'

I'm packing.
I'm packing for the eighth time since Phil and I have been together. That sounds crazy. I'm getting pretty good at it. I can't move and not get rid of anything. I reach a limit where I just can't pack the same item more than twice if I don't use it a lot. I just have to get rid of it.
Germany is different. I'm quite indecisive on many of our belongings. I'm not going to over think it though, except on maybe a few levels. Like last night...
To begin the packing process I started at the most insignificant level. The Florida Scarf fabric.
I can use the smallest piece of fabric on a scarf. Normally, I refuse to throw anything away, but I promised Phil I would get rid of some of what he deems useless. For me throwing anything away is like admitting that it doesn't have a purpose. I can't turn my back on the potential to be found in a chunk of fabric. I think this sounds really crazy, but each piece (or scrap) of fabric is like a puzzle piece. The puzzle for which the piece is appropriate may be yet to be crafted. I want to make it and give that fabric a home. It could end up on the coolest scarf I ever made. It's destiny could be to end up in your wardrobe, around your neck.
So here I sit, late at night, debating over a swatch of 1" x 3" of fabric. It's tiny and wrinkly but it still has a great image of a flower on it. I want it. It's going to be great on something. That one makes the cut, but there are hundreds more that won't. Much to the satisfaction of Phil, I will fill two garbage bags by the end of the night. Florida scarf will lose 10 lbs. in less than 3 hours. I actually feel much better by the end. More free. I'm sure there are many fine fabrics in Europe to be had.
As I was sitting on the ground in my sewing room, going through the fabrics, it was very much like reminiscing over an old photo album; like when you need to get a baby picture of your little sister to embarrass her at her next birthday party. In looking for the best photo you go through your entire collection recounting your entire childhood. I did that with my fabric. It's hard to believe that I'm still making scarves after four years. No one seems to be sick of me yet. And in the corners of those boxes I actually found a decent amount of fabric from the early days. I think I may start a scrap book. (wouldn't that be funny?) You remember different parts of your life, places you've been, customers you've had. They're good feelings. I can only hope that in closing this chapter of my life I am leaving plenty of space to build a great new chapter on the other side of the world.
I think this move is going to be great for Flo Sca. I can only dream about the new supplies I'm going to find and people I'm going to meet.