November Writings: Cleaning House

I sift through memories as I clean out the closet in my bedroom. A laundry basket overflowing with my three daughters' artwork and school projects from years past sits in a corner, papers draped over the edges, some torn or wrinkled on the ground. Clothes long ago outgrown hide books and toys no one has missed for a very long time. Partially completed projects of my own are stacked haphazardly on this shelf and that in this closet of memories. Photo albums, boxes of scattered photos, school portraits, and memorabilia from the girls' performances through the years. My bedroom has become the depository for those items no longer wanted and those forever cherished. It is an unorganized mess of memories and donation piles gone awry. I feel wistful thinking about my life and my children, very aware at how quickly it all passes by, as I work to get this room cleaned out.

How much has changed the past 5 years. The layers of change discarded within this cluttered closet, birth books, happy first birthday cards times three, gnome-making supplies from a now abandoned hobby, a series of braces from my youngest daughter's feet, a reminder of the progress she has made, the strong, determined girl that she is. A bedroom, a closet emptied of his belongings years before, initially left empty, it seemed weird to use the space. However, slowly I filled the drawers, the shelves, the closet as his presence faded from this home, of course not from the heart of my daughters who have filled up a new home and new closets, and new drawers with new memories separate from me with their father. I have reclaimed this space as my own, mine with my daughters. In many ways, it is nearly unrecognizable inside this house from when he was here. I love that I have made it my own. I've cleaned house and continue to do so, changed things, reorganized, reclaimed, and now I am taking that next step, making space for the woman I love.

I clean out the now-cluttered drawers and closet space with excitement and overwhelm at this new life before me. There are many unknowns, but so much potential. What new memories will fill these drawers, this space? The happy blended family I always dreamed of? I close my eyes and remember holding her hand as we drive down the road. I smile thinking of our playful conversations, and curling up together on the couch. Will this be my new reality? A partner with whom I can truly be happy, share with? I believe wholeheartedly that this is true, and yet we are trying to be realistic and plan ahead for those challenging moments as much as we can. My daughters are intrigued and hesitantly excited at the impending changes, although my youngest is definitely less excited than the others, nervous about sharing her space and losing time with me. I reassure my youngest daughter often, and will make a point of spending quality time with her.

This closet, these drawers, my clutter holds memories of my lifetime with my daughters. I look forward to filling my closet, the drawers, and most importantly my heart with more memories of a life I own, a life I share with the family I love.