I grew up in a nice neighborhood where kids rode bikes everywhere. Kids were welcome at every house. Every mother was a mother to every kid in the subdivision. It was the perfect place to grow up in my opinion. AND...everyone knew which house was ours. And... Not because that's where everyone wanted to hang out. We could always tell them it was the 8th house on the right once they turned on our street. But for them to know exactly which house was ours, we told them to look for the house that looks like a garage sale under the carport. Those are the facts.
Which brings me to present day. I have lived in my current home for 6 years. The longest I have ever lived anywhere aside from my childhood home. I moved from a house which was twice the size of the one I am in now. Which means that I had a LOT of "stuff" to get situated in a smaller home. You see I said "situated" and not "get rid of." But 6 years also means more "stuff." Not to mention my little boy was 2 when we moved into our home so there is "baby stuff" and "sentimental stuff."
For those of you that don't know, my dad passed away 3 years ago. I have a lot of
memories with my dad in this home. I have a lot of "last" when it comes to my dad. Last Christmas gifts. Last birthday gifts. Last conversations on my couch in my den. Memories of him coming to my rescue when I locked myself out but he came without my key. Funny moments. Memories connected to things and people are in this home.
Well, it's started to fill up. Full of "things."
Things that may work. Things that may not. My yard even had "memories" that I just couldn't part with because they held such a special place in my heart. My little boy's mud pit that he no longer played in was falling apart. But I couldn't tear it down because I would "lose" that part of my baby. I don't want to "lose" anything. I want to hold on as long as I can. I'm not ready to let go. I even love seeing those little hand prints on my coffee table because one day, they won't be there and I will wish they were.
I'm a very sentimental person whether I show it or not. I don't want to let go of anything. But the other day, I decided it was okay to "let go" of certain things. It was okay to let go of the rotten deer stand that was made for my little boy's 2nd birthday. It's okay to let go of the broken bat or the truck my dad got for my little boy. I can still "hold onto" the memories while letting go. Letting go of what's broken. Not forgetting the memories. The laughs. The tears. The smiles. The heartaches.
Letting go does not mean forgetting. You can still let go while holding on.
Which brings me to present day. I have lived in my current home for 6 years. The longest I have ever lived anywhere aside from my childhood home. I moved from a house which was twice the size of the one I am in now. Which means that I had a LOT of "stuff" to get situated in a smaller home. You see I said "situated" and not "get rid of." But 6 years also means more "stuff." Not to mention my little boy was 2 when we moved into our home so there is "baby stuff" and "sentimental stuff."
For those of you that don't know, my dad passed away 3 years ago. I have a lot of
memories with my dad in this home. I have a lot of "last" when it comes to my dad. Last Christmas gifts. Last birthday gifts. Last conversations on my couch in my den. Memories of him coming to my rescue when I locked myself out but he came without my key. Funny moments. Memories connected to things and people are in this home.
Well, it's started to fill up. Full of "things."
Things that may work. Things that may not. My yard even had "memories" that I just couldn't part with because they held such a special place in my heart. My little boy's mud pit that he no longer played in was falling apart. But I couldn't tear it down because I would "lose" that part of my baby. I don't want to "lose" anything. I want to hold on as long as I can. I'm not ready to let go. I even love seeing those little hand prints on my coffee table because one day, they won't be there and I will wish they were.
I'm a very sentimental person whether I show it or not. I don't want to let go of anything. But the other day, I decided it was okay to "let go" of certain things. It was okay to let go of the rotten deer stand that was made for my little boy's 2nd birthday. It's okay to let go of the broken bat or the truck my dad got for my little boy. I can still "hold onto" the memories while letting go. Letting go of what's broken. Not forgetting the memories. The laughs. The tears. The smiles. The heartaches.
Letting go does not mean forgetting. You can still let go while holding on.
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