Too Much Stuff

I don't know about you, but I have too much stuff.  It used to be that I only thought about it when contemplating or planning a move, but lately...  I think about it more.  It isn't just when I go to hang up clothes in a closet either;  it is also when I go to the pantry cupboard to find a can of corn or when I think about dusting in my book room or cleaning the hutch in my dining area.  Too much stuff.  Particularly prevalent are odds and ends of yarns left over from projects completed long ago and things like shoes that are falling apart but have been faithful and comfortable. I don't even want to go into other things like old notebooks from college and the stamp collection I started in fifth grade. Too much stuff. In an attempt to disguise the situation, I even have tightly organized overloaded cupboards and closets, but now it is time to clean out a bit -- actually more than a bit.  (I am so thankful that a couple of years ago my wonderful and "cool" adult children had a garage sale of all their things that were stored in my basement, so... that area is pretty well done.  They did a good job of it.)

The problem is that no one really wants any of my accumulated things - some of the "treasures" are personal, so I am on my own when it comes time to make a decision.  It is easy to part with items that no longer mean anything to you - like when you realize that you have forgotten the significance of that item -- the origin of a pressed flower, or what that odd metal spring goes to, but it is more difficult to part with the things that that could still be put to good use  by someone somewhere.  Who is that? Where is that?

Then there are the treasures you find when sorting through that you simply must keep -- things that have special meaning.  A case in point -- The other day my grandson was looking through stuff and found a "coin" of some sort that has my Father's name on it.  I honestly don't remember having seen it before -- ever. Is it an apport?  Think not. Probably not. It most likely has been resting for a long time inside that old salt box of my Mom's just waiting for my smart little scavenger of a grandson to find it. Now that coin probably is of no value to anyone except family who knew my father, but at the same time -- it is more than that. Putting aside all the concerns about too much stuff, here is my hope -- that my grandson will remember finding it and how pleased I was to see it. He obviously saw what it meant to me as he found a special place to display it where it would be safe. It was one of those shared moments.  He is old enough at age seven to remember and he has a memory like a bear trap.  That is just one of the things for which I am grateful. I definitely have too much stuff and I need to deal with that, but memories don't take up any space.