Letting Go of Stuff


My stuff clings to me like a drowning non-swimmer.  Sometimes I can lessen the grip with promises of a new home, an adoption of sorts.  The negotiations of these adaption contracts are exhausting.  The contracts feel more tedious than a divorce settlement.

For example my mother’s pearls that I never wear require a special home.  I cannot sell them or give them to a thrift store where their emotional value will not be appreciated.

Other items are unadoptable like the popsicle-stick basket from my daughter proclaiming her love for me in childish letters.  My chest constricts with the thought of releasing it to the trash bin and I am required to examine my feelings.

Will her gift be less real if its physical form no longer exists?

I can take a picture or better yet store the memory so it will be with me forever in consciousness.

What if I forget?

The thought takes my breath away.  Didn’t my sister just remind me of a forgotten object I had given her a few months ago? Was my over 60 year old brain destined to erase everything? Didn’t I have to write down my daily task for fear of forgetting?

And with that thought was the solution – WORDS.

I can record anything I want to remember with words.

Glorious Delicious Words


My words help me let go AND remember.

The perfect green solution to STUFF.

2 responses »

  1. If we could all be this strong, giving up precious moments our child gave us. For in ways, they are never that person, with those exact feelings again. Life takes them away.
    I believe I will always keep (over other material possessions), the roses my son made me and gave me on May Day at the park, while in first grade, when he asked me to marry him. (I’m laughing boisterously remembering that and our talk after, but his love was sincere, sweet, endearing, innocent – a memory and sentiment I will cherish and seeing those roses reminds me of it – which I’ve needed during those times when I’ve felt more like an ATM to a busy teenager obsessed with his friends, forsaking time with his family, with me). I will never have that little boy back, yes versions of him, but I will have those roses that symbolically represent such a special, bonding paternal moment with that little boy that once was.


  2. You still have words that make me think……I wish my Mom had your mind. Life is so precious and no materialistic item can ever replace that. You are awesome Dianne…….Don´t you ever forget that! Aj


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