Thursday, January 8, 2009
Bill
Bill and his wife left today after a wonderful visit. They live in Oregon, which seems so far away. I was surprised to find myself almost in tears as they left and I am not that emotional kind of person. Before they left I dragged two boxes out of the attic which had Bill's name on them. The kids seem to want to store boxes of memorabilia at my house because they don't want to take up space at theirs. They were things that at one time he had seen fit to save. He went through them. There were many things that ended up in the trash. Letters and poems from former girlfriends, T-shirts that had once meant something, hood ornaments stolen from police cars and assorted band medals. There was really very little that he saw fit to keep. I remember when my Mom gave me a medicine container full of my baby teeth. I threw them out and then immediately through out my children's baby teeth after having a new assessment of their value.
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When my mom was moving out of the house I grew up in, she said, "Come get all your stuff." I didn't remember leaving anything there, so I started going through the attic. "Um, Mom? I don't have any stuff here. This is all your stuff."
"Oh. I was hoping it wasn't."
(This is a timely post for me today, as I am trying to clear garage space, which entails getting rid of stuff. Lots of stuff.)
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