Even though my son is 3 miles away at college, I need to keep busy. Sometimes this busyness is fun and distracting, but most of late is not.
It’s gut-wrenching and sad, nostalgic and ruminating. It’s all of it at once. I hate to tell you pre-empty nesters, you really can’t predict or control all the feelings. You will just have to ride the wave. And salt water stings as you know.
This week I shred papers to the gills in 4 large garbage bags. I’m relieved and yet also embarrassed. I’m not a hoarder so where did all this paper come from? You know exactly what I’m referring to. It’s the goodbye good luck work cards where former colleagues wrote some nice things about you. It’s 6 years of elementary report cards (I kept many of those).
It’s 10 years of taxes, sigh on that. And staples are a pain to shred – facts.
I’ve come to the conclusion that in the end, our lives are just boxes and files. Of course in the many boxes, we will have wonderful photos and memories and all sorts of things our blood will dig though and hopefully laugh while doing so. But these ‘tombs of paper tomes’ pretty much reveal our lives, who we are and what we’ve held so precious through our years.
I found scraps of handwritten quotes from those I admire. They obviously resonated with me in ways.
I found my son’s birth discharge papers. I’ve found dreams, goals, and prayer lists from 20 years ago.
I found a old job offer letter. Typed and mailed if you can imagine. I could go on and on, but I won’t. We are trying to simplify our lives, aren’t we?
Not to be morbid, but as someone who went through my father’s boxes over 4 years ago, I like to think what I’d want for my son to find. I don’t want him burdened with unnecessary receipts and eighty old warranty manuals I never read. But it may be fun for him to find the choice poetry acceptance letter and many hilarious rejection letters. He may enjoy the encouraging boss note or a funny post-it saved.. Those are the bread and butter of life. Those make us who we are. I like to think he’d get a kick out of those. Even though they also may be shred one day.
I’ve got 2 trash bags to take to recycling. And about 2 more boxes to shred. Then I can start that novel, right?
Not likely. But I now have about 30 journals to comb through. I know there’s some good poetry in there somewhere. I just got to find it…
“Our life is frittered away
by detail. Simplify, simplify.” – Henry David Thoreau
~ C. Nor.
Fashion Stories & Dirty Laundry 