Simply Mo

What’s in your closet? Wait don’t answer that question. DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR! I mean don’t open that door unless you are ready! Ready for what you say? I mean ready to deal with what lies beyond that door. That’s right, what lies on the floor, is draped on the vacuum, is hanging over the extra table leaves, is cascading from the bar that is holding up the 27 coats that you never wear. Let’s see, the neon Obermeyer jacket from 1983 (“but I looked hot it in then”). Or there’s the True Grit red leather that zips diagonally that I will never wear, but needed at some brand fetish stage.

We all own our share of polar fleece vests and jackets. In New Zealand they have Swanndri and Fiordlander instead. Yes, those are hanging there also along with my husband Dean’s Outback Trading duster, which I have never seen him wear in person. There’s the hand-me-down long wool coat, that when I lived in the mountains would be a staple with the Sorels in the back of the old Land Cruiser that we used to drive. I’ve never seen people who carry provisions in the back of the car anywhere but the mountains. I used to say that my kids and I could survive a week in the car. There were three little pairs of sorels, at least six extra pairs of mittens and gloves, hats, headbands, dry socks, clean underpants, extra jackets, a box of Cherrios, granola bars, bottled water, and Fruit Leather. This stuff stayed in the Toyota Land Cruiser and there was more in the diaper bag that also went everywhere with us.

Mountain living required you to own an SUV, for getting around in the snow and to haul all the extra kid paraphernalia. Once the cell phone was invented, we no longer had to carry a week’s worth of provisions, just a day’s worth.

The above flash back is a result of opening that closet door. I meant it when I said, “do not open that door” unless you are prepared to deal with what lies on the other side. There is so much more to clutter, junk, and old coats. There is a rich tapestry of days gone by, memories of young children laughing, and faces of old friends unfolding out of the closet and behind the door. I haven’t decided to call this new found 3 foot by 4 foot space a memory box or a time capsule. Time warp may be a better term. You see it isn’t the belongings that we carry around with us when we move 5 times, but it is the people and the memories that are connected to the “stuff” that we are carring around.

I have discovered a compact pear shaped structure about the size of my fist to store these memories in. I sort of feel like Dorothy and the red shoes. I have had this little compact carrying device with me the whole time. The human heart provides the power needed for life. Some think we keep the memories in our heads not our hearts, but without the power supply of the heart the brain would be mush. Whether you have impecabley organized closets or Fibber McGee closets there is still your own tapestry woven with your memories. I think we all have a Fibber closet somewhere. It may be a shoebox way back in the shadows of the closet, a foot locker from another life, a rubbermaid under the bed, an attic filled with boxes, an old barn with trunks full of precious stuff, or that walk in room you call a closet. Just open the door with caution and an open heart, only you know what truly lies beyond that door.

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 12th, 2009 at 5:02 pm and is filed under De-Cluttering. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.