purge

a few days ago we went through the basement.  down there are boxes that have moved with me over decades.  boxes that haven't been opened in a very long time- but are there just if i need them.  but, it was time, to re-open them, to re-evaluate the contents and purge.

the first box i opened had a practical shrine to adam rich- the littlest kid in 'eight is enough', that show from the '70s.  it was made by me and said , "adam rich, a real super star!!!' with a cut out picture of him from tv guide (remember that paper thing we got in the mail telling us what was on tv?).  i had saved that for 32 years.  then i found some rose petals from my high school boyfriend along with the bandanna he wore around his ankle.  i found notes passed in class that were funny, and some journals with really bad poetry and a necklace that i wore in the 5th grade.  after dissecting that box- i threw out the bad poetry (it was really bad) and stuffed everything else back in and sealed it up again.  even adam rich. 

it's funny the things you save.  the things you can't part with.  and the things you sit and wonder over. 
i'm realizing that part of our culture is to accumulate things that help us define ourselves.  our clothes, our decor, our art, they hold memories, but they represent us in a way.

now we are deconstructing our lives.  in the middle of our life.  for cultures that live in tents, for cultures that are nomadic, this is their normal.  but here, in atlanta, it feels a little weird. and i love how in the end, you start to second guess all the decisions you've made along the way.  like should we really be selling everything?  what will it be like to come back to nothing?  well not nothing.  we've saved 2 chairs, one made by mike, and this one that i love, given to me by a friend that i love- and a desk we inherited - that is it.

the julia chair

i'm looking around this mess of a room, surrounded by piles and random objects that have been pulled off shelves, and wondering what i'll miss.  i'm sitting in the antique rocking chair that my mom gave me when i had zoe, and now thinking that i can't sell it.  it has histories behind it.  i rocked all my three babies in this chair- shouldn't i pass it on?  we're not nomadic- or at least we're not supposed to be.  what if i have nothing to pass down? 

or what about what to bring?  those little things that make you feel at home.  nested.  in your safe place.  it's not just being human, it's part of being alive i think.  dogs sniff around a rug in circles to find the exact place they sat last time.  safe.  ants leave a pheromone trail so other ants can follow their path to food and not bother foraging another trail.  safe.  i bet tent dwellers had their tent set up the same way- a specific cloth on their bed always- or the door consistently opening to the west. you make your home where ever you are- it's the little things.

since jude was a baby- he's always had this little painting of saint jude hanging over his bed, or his crib.  the patron invoked in desperate and hopeless cases.  this little thing will come with us.

but my barcelona art vases- will not.

the single remaining wooden-handled fork and knife from my childhood dinner table will come with us.
but the crystal from our wedding- will not.

our table cloth from a north carolina junktique shop will come- but the fancy hand sown japanese lace one, will not.


purge:  to rid of an unwanted feeling or memory or condition- associated with a sense of cathartic release.

i'm not getting rid of unwanted feelings or memories- but there is a bit of cathartic release.  like an untethered kite, floating away. and it comes in knowing that i am not these things. 

but i am going to find a way to store this rocker i'm sitting in!

rocking zoe, pregnant with jude

a few days later