A life well-lived
The stuff of memories is hard to part with.
Last fall, when I was helping my mom sort through some of her closets, we found the saved treasures from three generations (or at least things my mother, grandmother, and great-mother must have seen as worth saving). There was so much stuff, and it was so overwhelming that we eventually just closed the boxes and put them back on the shelves.
A new streamlined me.
I came home ready to clear up my own clutter, determined to save my son from the same mountain of clearing out he’d need to do when I’m gone someday. With inspiration from the glossy pages of home decorating magazines, I envisioned a more minimalistic life. Clean, bright rooms with wide open spaces and just the right amount of furniture. Tables and credenzas with two or three well-placed and tasteful objects. Closets with baskets clearly labeled and plenty of empty space on the shelves.
I decided that January would be the perfect month to begin my clearing and my office closet would be the perfect place to start. And so, with all good intentions, I began with the top shelf.
Here’s what I found:
Two boxes with the high school scrapbooks I made for my son. I’m keeping them until he has a place for them in his own home.
A large box of love letters from my husband from three decades ago – those must be saved!
A model of the Giants ATT ballpark in San Francisco. How I loved going to all those baseball games!
A box of photos of our three-legged dog Sally Forth who passed away 10 years ago. Must keep.
A box of photos of my gorgeous ginger cat Lucas who passed away 7 years ago. Must keep.
An embroidery kit for a red-tailed hawk pillow I’m going to make for my son – someday. He was crazy about falconry and birds of prey.
A carefully wrapped fascinator that I wore to a lovely wedding where the guests were asked to wear hats. It’s too beautiful to just donate.
A large container filled with the empty boxes for my miniature shoe collection. I was gifted a new shoe for every special occasion. When it’s time to sell them, they’ll be much more valuable with the boxes.
Maybe not the top shelf.
How about further down in the closet? What about these things:
A 4-drawer file cabinet brimming with the video projects and scripts I’ve work on over the course of my career. So much of my heart went into each of those projects. A legacy of 30+ years of work.
A rolling backpack that works perfectly for travel – once I get the zipper repaired. That backpack has logged a lot of miles.
A protest sign – who know what future march I’ll need it for? There’s always some important social justice cause to fight for.
A baseball cap from the 2012 World Series. The Giants won again, and I couldn’t be there, but my son got me this cap.
A box with all the notes and drafts for every screenplay I’ve written: four so far. Maybe someday I’ll resurrect them.
Three shelves with my most-favorite-ever books – the ones I would never loan.
A yoga bag and mat – for when I go back to yoga classes again. They reminded me of all the wonderful yoga teachers I’ve had.
A broken pottery bowl that was the first present my husband ever gave me when I was just a college student. I’ve carried it out to the trash twice only to bring it back into the house. I just can’t bear to throw it out.
A box of special birthday cards given to me over the years from friends and family. And some Valentines and Christmas cards. Uh oh, there’s the proof — I have turned into my mother, and grandmother, and great-grandmother after all.
Project de-clutter: fail.
After two hours, I had only a small pile of things for the trash or to donate. Barely a dent in the overstuffed closet. A definite failure in the attempt to streamline my life. And yet, I felt oddly satisfied. Flooded with the memories attached to all these things, I realized what a full life I’ve lived. What wonderful experiences I’ve had. The amazing books that have touched my heart and changed me forever. How very loved I am by my family and friends.
I sat on the floor, defeated in my de-cluttering but full in my heart. Who cares if my son will have to get rid of all these things someday? I’ll have to do the same with my mom’s and grandmother’s and great-mother’s things. It will give me plenty of time to reminisce about what rich and happy lives they all led.
In the meantime, I think I’ll reframe my bulging closet — as a memory museum. And when I’m feeling glum, I’ll just open the door and absorb all the love associated with all these things. Now that feels better already.