We have this closet.
It’s in the basement, located below the stairs to the second story of our split-level, so it’s very deep, with a sloping ceiling.
I’ve been throwing things in there since the day we moved into this house, 26 years ago. Occasionally I’ve attempted to organize and clear it out, but they’re half-hearted attempts. We get into it a few times each year because it’s where we keep our off-season clothes. The rest of the year we just keep the door closed and call it good.
Yesterday Middle Sister wanted to look for some of her sweaters, so she started digging.And digging, and digging. In the end she decided to take absolutely everything out, throw stuff away, and make a pile of give-aways.
It was very much like an archeological dig that got down to the beginning of civilization.
There was a box of baby clothes I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of. A large portfolio of the kids’ artwork and projects. Discarded home decor. Framed photos and art that we no longer used after redecorating various parts of the house. Well-worn “Dance Dance Revolution” mats. A “Guitar Hero” guitar.
It was a time capsule of our family’s history. And in the end, very little got thrown away or given away. I’m actually very fond of clearing out, tossing, and donating.
But there are some memories that are too precious to part with.