My grandmother's will reads "Keep the good stuff, throw away the junk" which someone lovingly stitched onto a pillow for my mother that was made from various scraps of my Momo's (grandma) clothing. I remember running my fingers across that pillow, feeling the scratchy polyester, smooth silk-like material and thinning cotton.
I remember thinking of that saying as I was packing for whatever adventure laid ahead numerous times.
I recall it as I study marriage and family therapy.
I think about it as I stumble awkwardly through social experiences.
I repeat it as we revamp our schedule for the coming semester.
I etch it in my mind as disappointment comes in what seems like waves as of late.
And then I move on.