The inevitable nature of modern life is the collection of things. Things being? You name it. Everything. Which is a lot, which is way too much for a post such as this (See how I did that?).
To delve into this great conundrum of stuff, which is the collection of stuff, which inevitably overwhelms us, requires that we drill down in order to really get to the gist of it, which to say: is there is too much of it? Whew.
I was prompted along this line of thought while surveying the last Christmas holdouts here in my neck of the woods. A few stalwarts continue to ignite the festive lights, to stand singularly among all of us who have either taken them down or did not to put them up to begin with. But that’s outside. Inside there resides the last embers of that Xmas fire, sitting in a pile by the window, overlooking the trees swaying to another of our winter breezes.
Like many things they come and go. Most are meant as a salutation, that yes, we’re still out there amidst the frivolity of our current situation, and if you have a moment, remember or think of us heartily. They are then set on counters or taped to windows or walls before being consigned to the recycle bin, or…
The box of memories that will, at some indeterminant point in the future, be returned to in order to revisit a cherished time when we were younger, or something like that. And the question occurred to me: will we? The answer, perhaps disappointingly, is probably not. Usually, at some distant far-off time, we’ll come across them when moving or cleaning house, or… when our kids have to deal with it when we’re gone.
This prompts the question of whether there is any value in saving any of them, or saving them all so the kids have something fun to look forward to? I’m torn. Mostly it’s the handmade cards, the ones where a lot of time and effort is put into it. It’s hard to throw those away, but… the question remains: will I ever look at these again? I mean, I don’t want to be the bad guy…
That’s why I let my wife decide.
©2022 David William Pearce