It's amazing, some of the things that we hold onto. Some might immediately think of various deep-seated emotions, but I'm simply talking about "stuff." Things that travel with us across states, in and out of dorm rooms, apartments and homes. They are packed, unpacked, left to collect dust, repacked, moved...and the cycle continues. I feel as though I'm relatively stationary for a while, settled in a home, so hopefully that sequence of events can be laid to rest for a while.
Our so-called 'bonus room' was subject to a good "cleaning out" this past weekend. The room sits atop a two-car garage, therefore, it is quite spacious. It has little furniture, and has managed to become the go-to place for any bit of "stuff" that needs a home. With a little help (mostly motivation) from my husband, we cleaned her out in preparation for a facelift, if you will. The plan: some professional painting, reorganizing, and new furniture. The revamp will hopefully turn cluttered 'bonus room' to organized playroom/craft room. If that's not an oxymoron, I'm not sure what is, but at least the room will have a designated purpose.
Having had 85 degree weather a few days prior, is really what I think set the ball rolling for this cleaning rendezvous. With trash bags at the ready, we made our way into the trenches. As I started going through boxes, I had to silently laugh at myself for some of the things I was finding. My husband, nearly had a cow, no less than 5 times when he saw some of the stuff I had toted around with us in that cycle described above. He and I are quite different in this aspect. He could live with a sleeping bag, a toothbrush and a book. I require a few "extras." I also hold onto things I think one day I might find nice to have. For example, and I swear I am not a hoarder, (my family can vouch for this) I found a bag of unused Dunkin' Donuts napkins, kept as a reminder that we (my husband, then boyfriend at the time and myself) frequented the establishment in college. Golf balls, that I wrote dates on from our first "mini-golf date." An acorn, for God only knows the reason. Tickets, tickets and more tickets - plane tickets, movie tickets, concert tickets, those little red raffle tickets with no indication of where they were from, but obviously my life would not had been the same had I discarded them years prior. Seriously, the list goes on. Cards upon cards, literally from the past seven years...birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine's days. It was all quite silly really. As I read through many of the cards, commenting on "Ohhh, remember this?" my husband, the efficient one, hurried me to make some progress. When I pulled out his graduate hood and a pile of honor cords, he was baffled as to why I thought these were important to keep, but as you can see, Quinn was having fun! And yes, his pants are clearly too big.
Many of the found treasures made me smile and even laugh. Sometimes, I guess, little keepsakes are reminders of life years ago. I was reminded of my Mom's wit, though not that this has changed, as I found a note written by her for my sister. Well, actually, for my sister's middle-school principal. It reads, "Please excuse Toni for being late today as her sister" (that's me) "took an extra long time getting beautiful this morning. Thank you." Followed by her signature. I'm not remembering exactly how that went over with the principal's secretary. The note brought me back to my high school years, carting my brother and sister around in my '96 Corolla to school and their various activities, blaring music much too loud which only resulted in a couple of blown speakers. Those and the numerous bent rims which, the result of driving anywhere within a five foot radius of a curb, I never could quite explain to my Dad. And then, I was brought back to present day reality - my growing toddler, standing at eye level with me as I sat amongst the rubble, adorned in those cords, and picking his nose. It's funny how life works out. Perhaps this is just the beginning of my being repaid for the headaches given to my Dad for those bent rims and blown speakers.
Our cleaning frenzy, despite my inefficiency, was turning out to be quite successful. Totes were consolidated, trash bags filled, but there still loomed....THE BELLY CAST! I had a blast, with my sister, making this at 37 weeks pregnant, sitting in my kitchen, feeling huge, getting slathered in cold, wet plaster. Yeah, it was a great time. But really, it was neat to see it in its finished form. And, what girl doesn't want a nice reminder of her once well-endowed chest. But, a belly cast is just one of those things that ends up in messy 'bonus rooms' across America. A great idea, but then what. So, the belly cast made its way into the trash (sorry, sister). Along with the party sash and the memory of the grumpy guy at the bar. And also the cords. We finished the job, made all the more difficult by a very curious and teething one-year old, and cleared out as much "stuff" as we could for the upcoming revamp.
So why had I held onto it all? For comfort? Security? Out of laziness? I think probably a combination of each. To alleviate fear that I might forget a memory. To feel like I was being conscious of sentiment. And simply because it was easier to pack it, move it, and store it, than dare delve into it and feel compelled to throw anything away. The room is a bit more bare now, leaving space for more "stuff" that will undoubtedly be packed and moved years down the road. Perhaps another "cleaning out" will occur then, and another memory made, looking through years of accumulated "stuff" and recalling moments that make us smile and others that make us cringe (bachelorette sash), being reminded of things to feel fortunate for and realizing that, though cliche, the years in life are going much too fast.