My dad passed away two years ago. After a lot of encouragement, my mom is finally downsizing to a smaller home. Which means going back in time and going through my childhood. I’ll just say it…
I have a hard time letting go of things.
I’ll never be able to Marie Kondo my home without a lot of help (force). The things I hang on to are either sentimental or for future craft supplies (so obviously I save all the things). There is no denying that I get this from my mother.
My parents bought our family home when I was 12. After living in a home for two and a half decades to say we had accumulated some stuff would be an understatement. She had Rubbermaid storage boxes in every attic (yes, her house had multiple attics), in the closets, and under the beds. She was so thoughtful in marking a few boxes for each of her 3 kids. We called them “baby boxes” growing up and they held mementos from birth through high school.
Sure, as a child I enjoyed going through these boxes. When I could still sort of remember the memories behind the handprint art, my speech therapy lesson folder, or my little gold heart from when I was in the ICU at the original Woman’s – okay I didn’t really remember this, but I was told the story enough that I felt like I remembered it.
The thing is, at 36, my construction paper crafts from days that are long gone don’t mean anything to me. My clay handprint was fun to show my kids for a moment, but I barely have space to put all their handprint art. After going through and recycling two boxes of memories, I decided to release myself from saving everything my kids make … and are going to make. Sure I’ll save a few things for a little while, like their annual art show work. And I’ll save a few things for forever, like all those adorable Christmas tree ornaments. But I’m done saving everyday paperwork. 
