I've ended up spending the last few days sorting though the flotsam and jetsam of my daughter's lives. They are switching rooms and what was supposed to be relatively simple has my hall clogged with dolls, papers, clothes and an assortment of items that only they can love. Uncovering the carpet for the first time in years – revealing the gouged walls underneath that poster – repair work needs to be done. I'm in the middle of painting the larger bedroom which needs to be done pronto to get my younger daughter's piles of stuff put away where it will soon belong.
I am always amazed at the accumulation that accompanies living. My oldest daughter had to sort through eight years of belongings that marked the transition from childhood to adulthood. Other frameworks are visible as well. The angst of teenhood, the remnants of the little girl – all piled haphazardly now in the hall waiting final distribution. Some items will go to my niece, another pile will go to goodwill. There are a few boxes that she will close up and store in the attic until such time that she is out on her own. If I look around at my own belongings – there is as much if not more that has been accumulated. What do I really need? What is only taking up space because I have the space to fill?
Luckily I don't have to worry over my own potential piles in the hallway right now. And yet, as I head deeper into my forties and I watch my youngest more into her teen years – I am aware that there is a shift coming that I welcome. A time when I can downsize and step out of the active and engaged parent role. It isn't that far away when I will also be going through the drawers and closets deciding what will go and what will stay.
For now, however, I will finish painting and enjoy my younger daughter's excitement at getting her new room.
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