Still holding breath on you-know-what... and other 'things'

Still holding breath on you-know-what...

I'm having a bit of a panic. I've been getting rid of my possessions for months now. What I'm keeping fits in one room. There's more to put in that room though. It's going to be a lot, and that's why I'm in a panic.

You know, there's that whole 'spark your joy thing'. There's what you need, what you want and 'that thing'. I'm at 'that thing', that 'joy sparker'. The things i have that are memories, precious objects... They are the things that I treasure.

My mother's painting, my grandfather's big ole handmade box on little ole wheels. It's made of wood and brown paint. Plain as plain can be. In order to keep it, I have to give it a purpose. So the big-ole-handmade-painted-brown-box will have the purpose of holding my LIBRARY. Yes, I'm bringing a library. Get over it.

My mother's painting because...  My mother painted it, I love it, and want I to take care of it. Add it to my list of must-keep.

The apple green sweater my grandmother knitted. It has brassy buttons because that's what she had on hand. She probably got those buttons from a piece of clothing that she turned into a rag. But I also have another sweater my grandmother knitted that's burgundy with a zipper. AND I have a sweater my mother knitted. So there's that. Mind you, none of these sweaters are in color tones that match mine. And they're old fashion. I also have two sweaters made by machines that I really like.  Iye!  I realize this is not like Sophie's choice but jeez.

I have given a lot of these treasures to family and friends. My brother has agreed to hold a couple boxes of pictures and any other family treasures I can't keep. Especially if it's something of Mom's. There are these objects families hold onto because as soon as you let them go, the story of the thing is gone. It's no longer a memory object for someone. It's now something for Goodwill to redistribute. Someone will be completely oblivious to the memories it used to invoke.
I have several precious objects that I found at Goodwill so I always have hope that someone will buy my treasures and love them in their own way.

I know this is somewhere between silly and insane but I may never have some memories again. I won't get the reminder of the memory when the thing is gone. I won't tell the story of the thing, expecting a memory to be attached to it by another person. Then that person treasures it and takes care of it. Cherishes it. It remains a treasure.

I think it would be fun to write one of those books that follows an object from one person to another. Like Annie Proulx's "Accordion Crimes", or "The Sewing Machine" by Natalie Fergie.

I digress. I'm realizing the toughest part of downsizing is yet to come.