My husband and I are purging all of the shit in our basement for a garage sale/donation to whatever charity will pick up at our house. I thought this would be a cathartic experience. Out with the old. Get rid of the stuff that is taking up so much of our basement.
What I’m finding is that as boxes are opened, toys and clothes rediscovered, memories of my children’s childhood come rushing back. I haven’t thought about Rescue Heroes or Blues Clues or Veggie Tales in who knows how long. Clothes that seem like they should fit dolls are stuffed in boxes and bring a lump to my throat. How could my tall and wiry 10-year-old son have fit into something so teeny, tiny? Little socks make me want to cry. Old hats that both boys used to wear seem like treasures now.
My Lord, they are only 10 and 8 1/2, and already I feel as if their childhood has slipped away.
If I feel this yucky at this stage, how the hell am I going to feel when they are leaving for college, to get married and start a family of their own? It does not seem possible.
Yes, yes, I know. I’m being overly sentimental. Overly dramatic. But still. I’ve not thought about those long ago days of worrying about what to do and where to go with the boys. Writing was just a pipe dream. Having another job was out of the question. Where has the time gone?
Don’t get me wrong; I love my life. Okay, there are way too many things to do -which I impose upon myself-, to worry about, and to think about. My boys are at wonderful ages – except for the incessant bickering between them – and I cherish the memories I’m making with them now. But to hear my youngest say, “Oh, good times” when he picks up a computer thingy that we put atop a keyboard so he could chug Thomas the Tank Engine around on the the screen, it’s makes me pause. He, too, is understanding how time slips past us and our memories become dimmer.
Having to get ready for this garage sale has been good for my soul. I’m not saying good-bye to their childhoods, but embracing the times we have yet to spend together while remembering those that have already past.
Peace,
Kris
