Toys in the Attic

Tracy, Alice, and I spent the morning at my mom's house, supervising, while some guys from "College Hunks Hauling Junk" cleared out the attic.  

The clearing out of the attic, while a daunting task to be sure, was long, long overdue.  Over 40 + years, my mom had accumulated a lot of stuff/mementos/junk and stored it in the attic.  She was not a hoarder, not at all.  She did, however, save a lot things from our childhoods, and she loved the fall holidays, especially Christmas.  There were a lot of holiday decorations in the attic, many of which I saved and will use at our house or at my office this Thanksgiving and Christmas.

It's a weird feeling to watch strangers hauling boxes and boxes out of my mom's attic.  Although I'd spent a couple of Sunday mornings in the attic, opening boxes, trunks, and generally scavenging through the detritus of her life, I still felt a rising sense of panic this morning, as I hurriedly looked in boxes and plastic storage containers before the the college hunks arrived.  

I was afraid I might have missed something.  Something that was especially important to my mom.  Something that might have reminded me of my mom.  Something that once it was carried out of the house would be gone forever.  A part of her history.  A part of our family's history.  A part of my history.  

I salvaged a few more holiday decorations and a few more books.  I kept an unframed picture of Jesus that had been in a frame that was broken at some point.  I found an old wallet of mine that had photographs of friends from high school.  Kim Reynolds, Anna Shepard, Laura Satterfield, Jimmy Spruill, Melissa Thompson, Shannon Parker, Debbie Billings.  Definite keeper.  The photographs, not the wallet.

I even found the application I had completed for my first drivers' license on July 9, 1982.  I also found belt buckles from when I was in junior high school at Northside.  KISS and Foreigner.  Rock-n-roll belt buckles that I could change out and attach to my leather belt.  Was I cool the late 1970's?  Of course I was.  

We're near the end, now.  I'm a bit embarrassed that it's taken us this long to get my mom's house (almost) cleaned out.  Still, we're close.  As I prepared to leave, not one but two neighbors approached me and asked about our plans for the house.  One appeared to be a bit of an operator.  I think he wants to flip it or perhaps rent it out.  The other has a friend who is renting in Meadow Lake, a subdivision on the very north end of Brentwood, and is looking to buy a house in Brenthaven, my mom's subdivision.  Everyone, of course, is looking for a fair deal, whatever that means.

It's hard to be at my mom's house, of course.  It makes me miss her more, like opening up an old wound that hasn't quite healed yet.  Still, I know, it's time to move on.

I couldn't help but think - this week - how much my mom would have enjoyed seeing J.P. and Joe play baseball this fall.  They've both played well and their teams have played well.  She would have loved to see them develop as baseball players and to watch them compete.  

I try not to share too much of this, or any of it, with the boys because it's too heavy for them emotionally.  Someday, there will be time for that.