Around here, the end of the year means it's time for some serious cleaning. My goal is always to get the clothing donation to Goodwill before closing on December 31. We rarely make that deadline, although the APB to get busy arrives the day after Christmas.
For three of the four Hoop-lahs, it is no problem. Closets and drawers are cleaned without a second thought. Too small? In the bag it goes. Haven't worn it in a year? Gone. Out of style and never coming back? See you later.
The fourth Hoop-lah wants nothing to do with this yearly ritual. And I mean NOTHING. If the request is met at all, it is met begrudgingly. And I mean BEGRUDGINGLY. It takes hours for Hoop-lah #4 to accomplish what could be done in 20 minutes.
I have no problem with saving the things that have meaning. But when everything has equal meaning it becomes overwhelming for everyone involved. Then today it hit me. There's some sort of sentimental attachment there that I do not understand. A fear of letting things go.
I see the same thing in my mom. She has boxes upon boxes of things she brought home when my Grandma died - 27 years ago. They've never been opened. They never will be unless my brother and I take the time to do it someday.
It all illustrates why memories are best stored in the heart, where the capacity is endless.
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