We’re moving this week. I’ve spent most of the summer packing up our life and getting ready for the next chapters.
This new chapter is bittersweet. My husband and I are closing the door on the richness of a family home and moving into a DINK house–you know, double income, no kids.
I suppose this is an easy move for some, but for us it’s been laden with minefields.
How many bookshelves do you really need to have? (Hey, I’ve given away 200 books in the last month).
Do we need our stereo anymore if we only listen to music on the I-pod or the classical radio station?
Do I really want to haul the UCLA grandfather clock I took from my parents’ home that has never worked?
What do we do with all my father-in-law’s Shakespeare books and rare Elizabethan research paraphernalia now that we won’t have the extra bonus room?
How many containers of Christmas ornaments do we need to have?
Why can’t the kids take all their stuff with them?
Why don’t we just take a picture and throw it away?
Here’s another example:
This is not my game. I never even liked to play this game. But look how beaten up it is. Obviously, it’s important to someone in the family.
What does it really represent?
The sifting reminds me of when my brothers and I sorted through our parents’ possessions. We easily tossed things into the requisite piles: keep, pass along, throw away. We were in agreement.
Until we came to a distorted plastic container in the kitchen.
“Uh,oh.” One brother looked at me out of the corner of his eyes.
“I know. What will we do?”
“You take it,” said the other brother.
I laughed. “I live in Hawai’i. I’m not taking this across the ocean.”
“But how can we throw it away?”
It was an old white Tupperware pitcher, the lid long melted away in the dishwasher. It wobbled narrow and upright, a little discolored, but we had made Kool-Aid in it throughout our childhood.
We had the presence of mind to realize we weren’t debating the value of plastic trash, but really, about our memories, our summers, and making a mess in the kitchen. How could we throw that away?
Three tall adults circled this item, now placed square in the middle of the kitchen. “We should just throw it away,” the oldest brother said.
I smiled at him. “Go ahead.”
Six feet, five inches slumped.
I pointed at the other brother. “You take it home and give it to Lynda. She’ll throw it away without a second thought.”
We laughed.
That’s exactly what happened. My sister-in-law is good in situations like that one.
Who does it belong to, really?
The Solarquest game is not my children. It’s not even their childhood. It’s just a piece, a chapter they’ve now long outgrown and one I only vaguely remember.
I don’t have any problem throwing it away.
Except, I sent them all a photo and an email this morning: “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”
One of them spoke.
It’ll be moving soon; but not with me!
How do you manage your memories and old toys?
Tweetables:
Possessions are not people; take a photo of the old item and throw it away. Click to Tweet
Three things to do with possessions: keep, toss or give away.Click to Tweet
Thoughts? Reactions? Lurker?