Why?

 As I take the first tentative steps into dealing with photographs, memories, keepsakes and other paraphernalia around our home there is one word that comes to mind. "Why?"

What do I have and hold onto that has any value to anyone but me? Is this really worth the effort? Or should I simply dump and shred the vast majority of that-which-has-accumulated throughout the years?

Then I heard Mom's voice quietly penetrate my subconscious thoughts. I believe I was wishing for a quieter, less committed life. "Be careful what you wish for" whispered through my mind. I think it was Mom's voice.

Mom lived without Dad for thirty seven and a half years. My brother was in grade 12 at the time Dad was hospitalized and continued to live with Mom another five to six years (I could tell you exactly, because I kept the first letter he wrote me from his new apartment and I know exactly where to find it). There were various "borders" who came and went throughout the years, but for the most part, Mom was on her own the vast majority of the time.

I think Mom and I are wired similarly. We navigate life solo well. Home is important to us. Family grounds us. We do best when we have a game plan for the day ahead.

I remember one of my very first thoughts when my first son was born. I was 17 years old at the time. Please forgive me. I think my thoughts were a little bit like this: "A boy ..." "Eighteen more years 'til he grows up" (not necessarily in that order).

Then, I kept on having a baby about every ten years. Now, at age (almost) 60, I am still parenting my youngest son who is attending University. I may be 65 before I'm on my own within this house of mine. I have never lived a day of my adult life without a dependent under my roof. But the day will come. Then what will I have?

I imagine myself wandering through my home, appreciating that which I held onto. My brother's first letter of independence. Photographs and albums that encompass Mom and Dad's family history, up until I stopped developing pictures that are stored on my computer or a USB drive. I can picture myself sitting still with Mom's library and going through her books one by one by one. I hope my curiosity for life starts to mirror hers as the demands of life start to diminish.

I see myself combing through the memories I have collected along the way and knowing when to let go and what is worthy of holding onto. I have three sons who are NOT collectors of memorabilia. What I have, will need to find homes elsewhere. It may become a project to re-home some of what matters to me before the day my children have to decide.

I foresee a long life ahead. I will need to re-invent myself and become someone who has something to talk about when in the company of others. I need to keep the air around me fresh, new and alive.

Who will I become when I reach the stage when I am living on my own? I know one cannot hold onto the past but I also know the value of feeling the roots of belonging. 

The need to cull and purge is ongoing. Some of what held value to me at the onset of my day, I was ready to purge by the day's end. Why would I hold onto this? What value does it hold? To me? To anyone else?

As I empty one set of shelves, to fill it with the photographs and memories I have deemed worthy of keeping, I must continue to ask myself "Why? Why is this important? Is it worthy of the space it takes to hold this? If I was not here, would this be of value to anyone else?"

I should "Marie Kondo" this scenario, pull out all my memorabilia and stack it all in one room to recognize the vastness of the task at hand. 

Two Rubbermaid containers at a time is enough for today. I need another extended long weekend before I take on the world. When I accept the challenge, I must ask myself two questions: 

• Does this bring me joy?
• Why am I holding onto this?

Holding onto the memories of the past without letting it weigh you down is a continual process. While there is a time to hold onto and cherish the past, part of the process is knowing when to let it go. 

I have held onto things that held value to Mom. Because they were important to her, it wasn't easy to discard her personal mementos. The question is now: "Does this matter to me?" 

The process continues...

Before and After

I spent the entirety of yesterday sorting through pictures, removing photos from frames and filing them where they belong and organizing albums. I kid you not, when I say "all day".

Here is the "before":

This is the "after":

Obviously, I have not yet completed the task. I have one more Rubbermaid container the exact same size downstairs which holds all our existing photo albums. The last part of this job entails intersorting the small stack of pictures left over into the appropriate album, label the albums, then find a "forever home" for all.

How I wish I had another four-day weekend at my disposal to complete the job. Just wait a minute! If I hadn't worked two out of the four days, a two-day weekend should have been sufficient.

My weeks exhaust me. It is time to work on a way to make my life work more efficiently. 

I am eyeing up a few more extended long weekends on the horizon. That could do the trick ...

Four Days

I woke up to my fourth and final day of solitary confinement at home. I was up before the sun this morning, so I didn't lose a minute of my last day at home.

Four days. Here are the stats:

• Two days of work, totalling 12 working hours
• One home cooked meal (okay, I turned on the BBQ, charred three hamburgers and four hot dogs which meant I didn't have to share this food fest and my BBQ'd meal lasted all weekend)
• Two outbound text messages
• One, three hour long phone visit with a friend
• One entire day on the couch, watching TV
• One hour long walk (the only time I have stepped off the property)
• One work-related drop by delivery
• One pizza delivery 

Friday was my son's first day back at University. I was home. Alone. The phone rang once. I didn't have to leave the house. It was an absolutely awesome day.

Saturday was a highly verbal day. My telephone conversation with a friend was the next best thing to "being there". We shared laughter, tears and easy conversation that goes hand in hand by knowing someone who has been there through every bump and turn of "life", the past forty four years. This was followed with a highly interactive day of working from home. Lots of phone calls, conferring and putting our heads together.

Sunday, I felt absolutely wordless. I walked with a friend near the day's end but I listened more than I spoke and did not have it in me to prolong the walk with a cup of coffee at the end. I returned from my walk at the same time I normally return home during my work week. I came home, climbed into my pajamas and called it a night.

Which leads me to Monday. Today. A day I plan to spend immersed in photographs and memories. One box is mine; the other box came from Mom's.

It's been three years without Mom. Three years and I still have not unpacked all the mementos I brought home with me. It just dawned on me this morning that perhaps the reason these boxes never got unpacked is due to my duties as an executor. I was buried in numbers instead of memories. It is time. I am ready, revitalized and raring to go.

These four days at home have been just what I needed, when I needed it the most. 

Feeling Awesome

The feeling of "Ahhh ..." is coursing through my veins this morning. 

It is Friday. I don't have to leave the house today, tomorrow or even the next few days. All "must-do" errands have been run. I am home.

My son is starting back to school. While the new school year still holds its fair share of nerves and apprehensions, his world has become far too small the past six months. Routine, structure, learning and socialization will be a very good thing. I feel a sense of my "ahh-ness" extended towards my son.

My apprehension about leaving the province has been sanctioned by the powers that be. It is recommended to stay within the province unless absolutely necessary. So I have no guilt over remaining home this last long weekend of the summer. 

I spent almost half of my monthly income yesterday so my budget strings are tied tight. The challenge is to live within my means for the remainder of this month so I can breathe a little easier next month.

COVID restrictions, budget restrictions, a return of some semblance of normal for my youngest son and simply knowing though I have the option of leaving home, there are no obligations outside of our property line this long weekend equal a state of contentment within.

The feeling of "ahhh" is pretty "ahhhsome".

Happy long weekend to all. May a little bit of awesome find its way into your world.

One Day ... But Not Today

There will come a day when replacing my car is smarter than repairing it. Thankfully it is not today.

My car simply didn't start when I turned the ignition five days prior to the day it died. When it happened initially, I gave it a few more tries, panicked slightly as I wondered if that was my last "start", but when it started easily the next time (and the next nine start-ups) I began to wonder if I had imagined the one time it didn't start.

Long story short, it wasn't my imagination. My car died last night.

As I sat and waited for the tow truck to arrive, I mentally tallied how much I have saved and how much more I have to go before I can shop for my next car. I berated myself for believing I was in a relatively good financial position after paying down last years bills to zero. I started to believe I had jinxed my luck.

Then the tow truck driver arrived and had a few tricks up his sleeve.

When the car didn't start by boosting the battery and a little more troubleshooting, he said he had one more thing to try before he gave up. He slid under the car, tapped the starter, told me when to start the ignition and the car came back to life.

He suggested I keep the car running until I arrived at my final destination because the starter struggled a little before it started. So my car spent the night at my friendly neighborhood mechanic's parking lot and a new starter has been ordered. I should be up and running by later this afternoon.

A new starter verses a new-to-me car? The starter wins. I can coast for a little while longer.

Of all the times and places for my car to abandon me, I could not be more grateful to be stranded in the grocery pick-up parking stall, fifteen minutes from home. I quickly assessed my situation. My grocery supply had just been replenished, a long weekend (with an extra day added to it) was on the horizon and I had no where to go. I was dreaming of five days of being stranded at home and I was not disappointed.

Granted, shopping for a different car would have added a dimension to the isolation which would not be ideal. But hey, I was still grateful I hadn't been stranded an hour and a half out of the city, in a spot with no cell service (I know this, because I tried to make a phone call), with my aunt on the day my car first died.

Do I feel like I have a battalion of guardian angels watching over me? You bet I do. Of all the times and places for the car to quit, this was one of the best options. I was on my way home so I had fulfilled my obligations for the day (and just one day shy of getting through the week). The car died on a Wednesday which allowed one business day for my garage to get me back on the road again before the long weekend.

As much as I long for isolation, I am grateful for the knowledge I can go anywhere I need to go by having a fully functional car in the garage.

I am feeling incredibly lucky this morning. My only challenge is in attempting to squeeze both a new car starter AND house insurance out of one month's wages. It's worth a try. 

When I first started visiting my aunt on a regular basis, I remember the sensation of feeling my uncle (her husband) and my dad's presence surrounding us. It was strong and I could almost reach out and touch it. Initially, it felt like a warm hug but as time went by, it felt a little more like someone walking along side me as I made my way through the days. Over time, that feeling diminished and I thought of it less and less. Last night, before I left my aunt's, I looked up at a picture of her and my uncle and my heart skipped a beat as I remembered how palpable I felt his presence over the course of time. I silently acknowledged his presence and wistfully thought of the years I have walked this walk with my aunt. I thought of the idea of all my "heavenly angels" for a fraction of a second.

I snapped back into the real world and as I headed home, I had every reason to feel stranded and alone, but I didn't. In reality, it is because I had a cell phone and all the numbers I needed to make my way back home. It was less of a problem and more of a slight inconvenience. But the feeling I had as I glanced up at the picture of my uncle was still within my subconscious thoughts. My state of well being was more than the convenience of cell service.

One day, my car will not start again for me. It is not today. I am grateful for my handy dandy mechanic at the end of the block, the funds to keep it running, cell service to call for assistance as needed and if there is an angel or three watching over me and keeping life only mildly inconvenient instead of major catastrophies, I am eternally grateful.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

 I woke up before the sun today. 

It was chilly so I pulled on some brand new fuzzy socks, grabbed a sweater and turned on the under the counter lighting in the kitchen.

I padded around the dimly lit house and welcomed the darkness around me.

The sun and summer have felt like an assault to my senses this year. I am ready to hunker in and hibernate.

I'm sipping my coffee as the sun starts to rise and I feel a calmness within.

Hello Darkness, I have missed you.

Pandora's Box

We woke up to a fresh, new calendar page this morning. A clean slate. A fresh new beginning.

I look at my personal calendar and I feel refreshed as I look at a blank page with no appointments, no upcoming commitments and thirty days of empty boxes.

Then I open the door to my home office. The same thirty days is filled to the brim with must-do, hope-to-accomplish, and endless to-do-lists. 

How can the same calendar page, only eight steps away, feel so different? Does the inability to catch up with my bookkeeping job spill out into the hallway and zap my energy reserves I have within my own personal life?

I am grateful for my office-with-a-door. I close the door in the same fashion one manages a closet filled to capacity and the contents must be stuffed back inside as one struggles to shut the door. My home office feels just a little bit like Pandora's Box. 

Is it by accident or design that our vacuum cleaner has taken up residence just outside my office door? I thought I had left the vacuum cleaner out, to encourage a spur of the moment vacuuming binge over the weekend. Instead, it appears this cleaning appliance is sitting outside the door of plenty, just waiting for the moment to clean up whatever spills outside the door.

I think it's time to get to work.