As I’ve mentioned in recent posts, I am retired from my business owning, chair swiveling, sharpie sniffing career and feel a little unnerved about all this free time.
I’m spending my days sorting through years worth of stuff; things passed down through the family, things saved for a reason, things that have accumulated.
I do believe this makes me a bit of an archaeologist. I’m unearthing some relics of the past, doesn’t matter how recent, it’s still the past so yes……archaeologist.
Last weekend was spent in the bedroom closet going through all the boxes on the tippy top shelves. You know, those ‘out of sight, out of mind’ shelves we put things on when we don’t know where else to put them, and they aren’t in the way because….well……tippy top shelves need a step stool to reach.
As I dusted off and opened each box, the memories poured out. Memories, some floating gently like soap bubbles and others rushing like water from a burst dam.
There were the pins from youngest sons tournaments and soccer clubs. I remember those games and the trips we took. I closed my eyes and could see that blonde boy in his uniform. The memory made me smile and a tiny bit wistful.
There was the box that held family World War Two memorabilia and medals. I thought about the men who earned these medals and what the cost had been. I wish I could speak to them again, to hear more, learn more and to thank them.
There were so many pictures, most taken when I was a baby or before I was born. As I studied my baby pictures and pictures of my relatives, I thought about the resemblance to the pictures of my children and grandchildren. The family smirk never seems to skip a generation.
One box held things from my long history with Las Vegas. There was the T-shirt they gave me when I hit the jackpot on the Blazing 7’s machine. There was the promotional slot glove The Flamingo gave out to keep our hands clean when we were digging coins out of the slot machine tray. This is a real relic as the machines no longer spit out coins. It is all paper tickets and a tinny ‘clink clink’ sound, and you don’t need a glove for that. My glove is in pristine condition, never worn. I loved digging out the coins…..dirty hands and all. There were years worth of slot club cards and old casino chips from long closed and imploded Las Vegas casinos. All of these things reminded me of fun trips taken with my mother and sister. I unearthed so many years of wonderful memories from this box.
Another box held personal journals. Skimming through, it was if they were written by someone else. A valuable find because this box reminded me how far I’ve come and how content I am with the woman I see in the mirror now. I can let those journals go, they served their purpose.
There were ticket stubs and play programs, monogrammed menus, and cocktail napkins. Each piece representing a memory.
As I separated the keepers from the throw-aways in each dusty box, I was almost overwhelmed with emotion.
I thought this must be how an archaeologist feels when they unearth a treasure from the past. Right then I decided my new professional title ( just a volunteer position at this point) will be Household Archaeologist.
I have seven rooms and an overstuffed basement to go.
The kitchen is next, though I’m not sure unearthing a can of green beans that expired in 2001 will stir much emotion.
Nevertheless, the big dig continues….
I don’t think I could bear to throw out my journals, even though nobody will ever read them (not even me). I admire you greatly!
Thanks 🙂 I didn’t imagine ever letting mine go either so it was a surprising feeling.