I recently took on an exceptionally challenging domestic task and began working in one of the most neglected and feared zones in all of my humble surroundings: Cole's closet.
You know how you go along, happily piling and stashing and rearranging until one day you wake up and there's a team from A&E's Hoarder's at your front door? (Well, I wouldn't personally know how that would go, but let me tell you, the people I live with may as well audition today!)
I hit that point last week, and kept telling Cole, "Okay, today is the day! I'm emptying out your closet!"
Never mind that I repeated that phrase for five days until yesterday, when I finally made good on my threats.
Long story short: I'm not even close to seeing carpet in there, but I am having little rewarding moments of sweetness, because I'm finding stuff like this:
Be still my heart. Cole's old Woody costume.
This costume represents so much about who my son was, is and continues to become. He wore this costume on a regular basis for YEARS. It speaks to me about his need to create alternate realities for the best possible kind of play, involving more imagination that I can ever remember being in possession of.
The way he dives into things headlong and with zero reservations. The way he lives his life: out loud with few if any apologies.
I had to dig out a layout I did back in Clean&Simple Scrapbooking. Love that I have this story saved.
Here's to sentimental treasures found in the midst of a hoarder's paradise. And to the simple and fine art of saving our stories.