Why We Cling On to Our Material Possessions

Last night I decided to go out for once, and almost lost my sweater in the process. I searched frantically for it. Even then, in a sort of drunken daze, I realized how strange it was for me to be so distraught over a sweater. Much to my relief, I did eventually find it, although the strangeness of the situation stuck with me.

I was brushing my teeth this morning when I remembered the ~10 minutes of distress I had gone through. Why? The sweater wasn’t particularly nice; really it was rather ratty as I’ve had it for years and years. I told myself I could just buy another one, but the thought held no assurance for me. This sweater was special.

I’ve worn this sweater many, many times - it’s been with me since high school and accompanied me to several countries. It was on me as I laughed at jokes with friends I don’t see anymore. It was often the only thing providing the comfort of familiarity as I found myself submerged in an unfamiliar social setting. For the short time that I lost it, I recalled events which happened years ago that I had forgotten I’d known. These memories do not belong to me, instead, they’re stored in the threads that weave together: neurally, naturally. Every loose knot, every pill, every unconquerable stain is a reminder of who I once was.

Amidst all the change and uncertainty in our lives, sometimes material objects are the only constants.