Last weekend Big Boy and I FINALLY managed to sort through the huge pile of boxes we have had sitting in one of our spare rooms for YEARS. The local RSPCA shop went into shock at the huge deluge of kids toys, clothes and other bits and pieces which landed on their doorstep. Well, actually the comment was: "Thank goodness the truck is here, we'll have to send some of this to the warehouse."
And that wasn't the all of it. Some I gave to friends, some I have kept to sell on eBay, some has been put into the appropriate space - that is either the bin, or its proper place. But one thing sorting through these boxes has done is pull forward a whole bundle of memories.
I am a hoarder. I freely admit this side of my personality, embrace it even. And as my mother, Wise Woman, tells me, you can't keep everything! I know they are just things, and that things are the physical not the emotional, but it is like a smell or a song can trigger a forgotten memory, a much-loved toy or a well-thumbed book can do the same. It is not necessarily the thing itself that is important, it is the emotion attached to the years of connection.
I sold my Giggles doll on eBay. She came complete with original box, wobbly letters with one reversed spelling out my name in a childish scrawl over one corner. I have boys, and thought it was silly to hold onto her, but that was wrong. I regret the sale though she fetched a pretty penny. I miss her, or at least the young girl buried deep inside me misses her. She took some lovely little girl secrets with her, and yes I shed a tear.
I still have my childhood guardian, he sits on my bed ready to listen in the dark hours. His fur has been drenched with tears, he is matted and his coat is dull. But his arms still embrace even this chubby adult body, as tightly as they did the frail frame of a five year old. I have fought my sons for him, and although he does do special sick bed visits, he is the one thing I have refused to surrender to those little thieves of my heart. In that Wise Woman does not nag, for she has Edward, her childhood companion. And at nearly ninety years old he is worth far more than a 1960's dusty old bear. And neither shall ever be sold, for they are items far more precious than mere money.
What about you? Have you discarded something and then regretted it? How do you put a dollar amount on an item of love? Or are you ruthless, one of those de-clutter your life gurus? What is your price for memories?
Oh, and I have someone here I want you to meet. His name is Pandy. He holds safe the heart of a little girl on her fifth Christmas morning.
I am a Madmother of two wonderful boys, wife to an amazing and tolerant man, daughter to an incredible woman whom we lost Oct 2010.
I have 4 blogs. Meandering is rambling, general, whatever takes my fancy stuff. Woven Words is for my short stories and creative writing, Nimbobulan Dreamings is my kids story. And my latest is Hellion on Wheels: my Roller Derby journey. Feel free to look at or follow all 4 if you wish.
Do note, however, all blogs are copyright of the author. They are not to be copied or printed and distributed without written permission from Madmother.