Letting go....
Anyone who knows me knows I like things. Things hold an importance in my life. Strange things -things that provoke memories. I love those long squished pennies you get at tourist places. I like stuff like that. I kept a cracker (in an airtight box) that Alan M. gave me at the skating rink when I was in 8th grade. Oh, I liked that boy so much. I have boxes (not too many) of that kind of memorabilia of my life.
After living in this house for about 15 years, it's full of things. The time has come to let it go. Not all of it, certainly. But a lot of it. I don't need my grandmother's hope chest when I have one of my own. I don't need my mother's piano when I don't really enjoy playing. I loved my victrola - past tense. It's time for it to go to a new home.
My boyfriend has been great about this. He nudges me along without pushing me. He handles my tears as I say goodbye to the things that once brought me comfort. It's odd, once the tears are gone I'm okay with it. Lots of things have been donated. Lots has been put to the trash. More will be sold this spring in what promises to be the mother of all yard sales. Part of me is sad. Most of me is excited.
I did this to my girls' room. I removed everything from the room. Ev.er.y. thing. I went through it all and made their room into a place they could feel at home. Now I'm going through every room in my house and trying to do the same. It's a slow process. It's a hard process. I remember buying this with my husband during happy times. My daughter made this when she was in first grade - oh, I miss that time. My mom couldn't bear to part with this when she moved to MD so it's in my possession. Goodbye all those things.
Hello new, free life. With each trip to the thrift store donation place and each bag of trash that leaves, I can breathe a little easier. Inhaling now....
After living in this house for about 15 years, it's full of things. The time has come to let it go. Not all of it, certainly. But a lot of it. I don't need my grandmother's hope chest when I have one of my own. I don't need my mother's piano when I don't really enjoy playing. I loved my victrola - past tense. It's time for it to go to a new home.
My boyfriend has been great about this. He nudges me along without pushing me. He handles my tears as I say goodbye to the things that once brought me comfort. It's odd, once the tears are gone I'm okay with it. Lots of things have been donated. Lots has been put to the trash. More will be sold this spring in what promises to be the mother of all yard sales. Part of me is sad. Most of me is excited.
I did this to my girls' room. I removed everything from the room. Ev.er.y. thing. I went through it all and made their room into a place they could feel at home. Now I'm going through every room in my house and trying to do the same. It's a slow process. It's a hard process. I remember buying this with my husband during happy times. My daughter made this when she was in first grade - oh, I miss that time. My mom couldn't bear to part with this when she moved to MD so it's in my possession. Goodbye all those things.
Hello new, free life. With each trip to the thrift store donation place and each bag of trash that leaves, I can breathe a little easier. Inhaling now....
Comments
Post a Comment