I am in the somewhat miserable process of packing my whole life into two suitcases (since I'm moving from Europe to the States). Owning a good 600 books, any fool could see some of them will have to stay behind. (Although, I am quite tempted to TRY and squeeze them down into my two bags, just for fun.)
All my clothes won't fit either. I can't bring the family dog. Obviously I will miss my friends and family sorely. But when I had to pack down my books... that's when it really hit me.
It's like leaving parts of me behind. They are my identity. I feel lost without my Kerouac collection, lonely without my John Lennon biographies, devastated without my Dostoevsky. They're completely different from other material things. They have souls.
To be honest, most of my books have been put away in boxes for the last two years, ever since I went to Japan, so I had only the most precious fifty or so books to pack today. But there's a reason those fifty weren't packed away - they're the most meaningful ones.
And I must admit, it really hurt to put away my beautiful literature anthologies and novels like Wuthering Heights, not knowing when I'll see them again. I'm trying to tell myself that if I end up staying a long time over there, I'll get them sent over, and if I decide to go back, they'll be here waiting for me. It's not as if I'm throwing them away.
Even so, I was howling like a lunatic... until one of my suitcase ate all my clothes, still weighing but 16 kg. That means I can stuff the other one with books! No, not quite, but I'll be able to bring a few!
Now comes the terror of choosing which ones. I should be able to bring 20 or 30 paperbacks, but I am tempted by my beautiful anthologies. If I do take them it'll probably be more like 10 paperbacks.
Which books would you pick? I'll be back with my list.
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