I was on a radical mission… View, sort, toss or save, label, record and breathe easy once again.
It had to happen. I do believe I have a severe allergy to… Stuff!
For 8 years on the road abroad, I lived out of 2 backpacks… Schweet. I loved the buzz of being able to carry all I ever needed on my back. Simple, clear and clutter free.
But back home their was THE …
Even the idea of this makes me shutter to this day.
I would be on a home stint, decide it was about time I sorted and purged. I’d head to the shed, turn the key in the lock, sllllowly open the door… There before me loomed the boxes.
I felt nauseous.
And with one deft slam n’ lock, I’d be off. Free… Until next time;)
Now, I’ve simplified quite well in my domesticated life. I still have the allergy, but I’ve found if I keep on to, it is opportunity to release the old and welcome in the new.
I choose perpetual freedom from Stuff. 😉
And yet, the piles of life have been growing. So, with munchkins tucked sweetly in their beds, I faced the basement (can’t ya just hear the ominous voice echoing that one?), “the baaaasement”.
Actually, wasn’t too painful. Ain’t that the truth with any task we dread, the thought of doing it is always more challenging than the action.
(Yes! Note to self)
I sorted away, reviewing old boxes, pitching and consolidating. Funny how something that lives in a box for a year is still kept. I mean seriously, we all know we don’t need it if it sits in that box.
But then there are things that simply CAN’T be thrown away. Those things that if they could speak would shed light on our very souls. Things that the moment we hold them, they time trip us to what was and a flood of memories fills us.
I opened the box. I knew he had to be in there. I shuffled down to the middle and my hand brushed his familiar fur. I pulled him gently into the light. Those sparkling eyes met mine and I was once again a little girl holding him tight, sharing the light and the dark of my life with my kindred soul-friend.
This is Smiles and he holds a thousand tales or more of my life as a little girl, new to it all, confused, elated, crushed, recovering, evolving.
I don’t remember when he transitioned from my bed pillow to the box, but I’m glad he’s back home. The boys are old enough now that they won’t drool or munch him, I’ll just need to appeal to their sense of decency not to roughhouse with him;)
But no matter, I am glad to have that familiar face in its place once again.
We must safeguard the treasures of heart, honor them, delight in them, and revel in the stories they hold… For those are the stories of our making and the truth that makes us whole and who we are.
Welcome Home Smiles;)
What treasures do you hold on to from your childhood? If they could talk, what stories would they tell?
We honor our children, this is our responsibility and our joy. But to be full we must honor, above all, the child within ourselves. He/She, will never steer us wrong… Only to greater joy and innocent, wide open, Love.