Cleaning Out

Each window of time spent in my Mother and Ed's home allows me to attach and detach a bit more to all of her posessions. I never really thought of all the things that hold value to me emotionally before at my mother's house. I never imagined them to not be there for always, my mother's bright, eclectic, childlike, disorganized and dusty collections. With each visit I'm able to strip away another layer, perhaps it's a window sill, or a pile of baskets or a photo collection, but with each visit I'm able to minimize another corner. At this point I'm not only removing the items I have no attachment to, but taking with me the items I am attached to the very most. It tells me a lot about how my mother's aesthetics have formed mine.

I am drawn to her yarns and needles of course, but also to her craft supplies. Her notecards are interesting to me, her notebooks and places of reflection. Some of her jewelry holds weight and I'm unclear on how her clothing is affecting me at this point, I note attachment to the things she wore as a young mother to me. I have no attachment to her shoes of jackets. I am intensely drawn to certain tchotchkes and decorative items.

I am so thankful that clearing through my mother's possesions can be a gradual process, one that we are eallowed to pick away at bit by bit. I am thankful that I love my mother as much as I do, but am also able to detach from so many of her things, in some ways it's easier to miss her and appreciate her aesthetic if I'm allowed to curate her collections to my very favorite items. I get to remember only my very best conotations through the things that we choose to keep. It's a nice luxury in death, to hold onto your favorite personality traits. I'm allowed to forgive the rest as human error, just as I would in a science report.