Cleaning Out Our Closets Cleans Out Our Souls
What is it with cleaning out our
closets?
At the beginning of every season, I do
it. But I dread it. At first I feel so great, weeding out all the
size 14s – and size 8s – so that I can finally see into the very
back of my very tiny closet. I pack them in shopping bags and take
them to a charitable donation spot but carrying them in, something
else sweeps over me.
I leave, feeling hollow.
Granted, getting rid of baby clothes is
very hard. Who doesn't remember when that little head fit inside
that bunny hood, instead of headphones now?
But it's not just that. I see slices
of my life peeling away, ones that will never come back. His
favorite striped shirt I had to cut a hole in so he could fit his
head through it in preschool. (My husband's family is known for
their big heads.) The shoes he wore when he first started walking
(thankfully, I knew enough to grab them back from the garbage when we
bought him new sneakers.) And his ghost Halloween costumes. I'll
never forget those soulful little eyes peeking out of the white
sheets!
I did keep the baptism gown, the fuzzy
yellow chick pajamas and the blanket I carried him home from the
hospital in (they somehow forgot to take it; I wouldn't part with it
now for a million bucks.) It does help that he's 5'7” and just
barely 100 pounds so he doesn't grow out of his clothes that often.
But taking them to the drop-off is still a little hard.
As for me, I'm a shopaholic, ashamed to
say I give away clothes with the price tags still on them. I figure
someone else can use them, so I don't feel too bad. But my clothes,
too, I have feelings for, like the (size 8) slip dress I didn't have
to squeeze into, years ago when doctors thought I had kidney cancer
(I didn't, but what a way to drop 20 pounds in a week). I did
however give away the pant suit I was wearing when I met my husband
(ok, so it was the '80s!).
I guess it makes sense to feel sad
about the lives we lived, in the clothes we give away. I'm feeling a
lot of loss these days as my son is now in high school (how did this
happen?!) and liking it. And I have to admit I like this a whole lot
better than the days I had to get to Newfield a half-hour early to
get a good parking space to pick him up.
A lot has changed since Phillip was a
baby and giving away his clothes reminds me. But I also know that a
child somewhere needs them. I just hope that mom doesn't feel as sad
as me if she goes to give them away, too.
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