THAT was a rough weekend. My next weekend is going to be worse! Last night up until nearly midnight with that pre-NYE house cleaning business that is resulting in a purge of amazing proportions! The result is magnificent, but not without its costs in perspiration, and really, a wrenching of the soul.
Deciding whether my 45-year-old purse from First Holy Communion is an artifact worthy of retention. Or perhaps I should just harvest the holy cards? It’s getting easier to part with early artwork from the girls. But the goal is not to purge the past, but to find those nuggets worthy of preservation, and lock them in a time capsule the daughters can enjoy sorting through years in the future.
My mother, who owns a house with a white kitchen and nothing on the counters, used to send me a package every couple of years with the letters and clippings that I had sent her. By the third time that happened I figured she was chronically unsentimental. Think about it. When a grandparent or old aunt passes, part of the goodbye is the gleaning of old artifacts saved, each with their stories, good and bad memories. At my mom’s house I won’t even find an expired coupon.
I live thousands of miles away. Love her, though. Of this purging experience, she’d ask why I had all this stuff in the first place. She’d say, “who cares?”
Found an old guitar pick yesterday. Saved it.