Mama’s Closet It is a mysterious thing how our minds work. How any sort of words or images can trigger thoughts. I dont concern myself much with the how’s of science, I am fine leaving that to folks way smarter than I. I have issues enough standing in the cookie isle at the grocery store. Should I buy vanilla, chocolate, or doubled stuffed Oreo’s? Oh wait says my penny pinching side, the generic brand is on sale. I hate my penny pinching side, no generic comes close to an Oreo. This morning thoughts were triggered while ending a chat with a friend, I said in a manner of closing, ”Have a good afternoon”. She replied, “I am cleaning out closets today”. It should be said here that I am a bachelor and not a good house keeper. Dust and the like, I can walk over and around with the least of worries. I do however dislike clutter, and so anything that sits around for a length of time must go. Either to the rubbish bin or if it has any value to the Salvation Army. My life has been a series of many moves, apparently I am a wanderer and part gypsy. Here Today, Gone Tomorrow. Clutter is a hindrance for my chosen lifestyle. While you may find value in things and in keeping them, I rarely do. No criticism is meant by that last sentence, we all do what is important to our individual wants and needs, and hopefully whatever it is you do is good. My most prized possessions are a couple of large manila envelopes filled with old pictures. When my friend mentioned she was cleaning out closets today, my mind instantly recalled my last closet cleaning. It was the day after Mama’s funeral. There is not one good thing about saying goodbye to a parent. I have done it twice now. The funeral was hard, hard. The closet cleaning was harder. Myself and my three sisters met at our old home the morning after the funeral and sat around the kitchen table where I had eaten thousands of meals, all prepared and served by Mama. There was some business about the estate which went smoothly and discussion about things and who should get them and who might want them. All this went very well and when it came my turn, I said, “A few pictures”. The property was to be sold and Mama had been a borderline hoarder, I think this is common with Depression babies. It was our task this day to sort through it all and prepare the house for sale. We all wandered around, not quite knowing where to start, or even if we could get it together to start. Together we took the pictures off the wall, I noticed that there were many more pictures of grandchildren and great grandchildren than any of us four siblings. Pictures of the circle of life I thought. After we finished with the pictures, we each went to a closet. I opened one that was full of Dad’s old clothes. His Hawaiian shirts, some khaki pants, and a couple of suits. He had been gone years and up until an hour before, I wouldnt have understood why Mama hadn’t, or couldnt dispose of them, I understood now. In the bottom of the closet was a stack of children’s games, Monopoly was on top and I pulled it out. Fifty or more years old, and full of memories of games played with sisters and friends. FYI: I always preferred the “Top Hat” as my playing piece. A Parcheesi game was next but I left it in place, my feelings just then were better served with it being left there. Next to it was a small plain brown paper bag with the word “save” written in pencil across it. Inside the bag was a cheap custom jewelry necklace, I had no idea where this necklace came from or who’s it might have been. Frankly, it wasnt much but I stuck it in my pocket without saying a word to my sisters. After an hour or so, we all decided we could not do this, not on this day. Some time needed to pass. The time will come when someone will go through my things, I can’t tell you where or when it will be, but if I have anything to do with it at all, it will be someplace I consider paradise and it will be a long, long time coming. This person will find among my prized possessions a cheap custom jewelry necklace in a small brown paper bag and if they have read this story, they will know of its importance to me. Mama wrote “save” and so I did.
Posted on: Sun, 01 Jun 2014 22:38:25 +0000
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