We moved my mother to an assisted living facility this week. Room by room, closet by closet, drawer by drawer, we sorted everything in her home into three categories: Keep, Give Away, Dump. No small task. Eighty-seven years of memories and accumulated possessions had to pass through a very small sieve called Room #7. Fortunately, my mother is not a saver and is also a very organized person. Nevertheless, a multitude of decisions had to be made.
Sometimes the decisions were easy. Her stack of forty Taste of Home magazines quickly went into the big black trash bag. We both confessed we love reading magazine recipes but never really get around to executing most of them. The assemblage of VCR tapes, cassette tapes and unidentified CDs were also given the heave-ho along with the aging electronic equipment that may or may not work anymore. Frankly, she never really figured out how to use any of it after Dad passed away despite our attempts to write out step-by-step tutorials for her. The TV and the remote went into the Keep category. The monstrous entertainment center was classified as Give Away. The jumbo speakers she was using as end tables by her couch went to techno heaven and the political DVDs followed closely behind.
The euphoria of easy classification was not the case for every possession. When we opened her office closet, our eyes settled on the shelves with the photographs. We both released an audible sigh and looked at each other with pained expressions. She did a brilliant job of organizing her photos into labeled albums and converting boxes and boxes of slides to CDs. Yet, sentimental is hard to classify as Keep, Give Away or Dump, especially when space is at a premium. We decided to do an off-site Keep. They are now safely tucked away in my basement awaiting a slow drizzle into mom's space. Hopefully, her organized albums will shame me into attacking my jumble of haphazard photos, negatives and camera detritus from the pre-digital era. Not holding my breath. Advance apologies to my daughter.
Many possessions inspired a memory or two. The large painting of a soaring eagle ignited a sparkle in mom's eyes as she told the story of how Dad loved eagles and the picture was an obvious choice for both of them when they needed something new above their couch. The little brown teapot I had never noticed before was a gift to her parents on their 50th anniversary. The scrapbook from the Lewis and Clark bus tour we took together several years ago brought out a shared glow of fond experiences. The box of specialty teas reminded us of the fun we had selecting a favorite tea and the ensuing laughter and conversation. The sets of Bible commentaries brought out her passion for teaching Bible studies throughout the years. We laughed when we recalled that "naughty class of Sunday School boys" she was asked to teach. She got them to behave which was a good thing because one of them became my husband.
Despite the challenges of making a monumental move, my mother maintained a positive attitude throughout the process. She kept saying there were only three temporal things she needed to make her happy. Her easy chair, a stack of crossword puzzle books and a bird feeder to watch from her window. Gratefully, we were able to make that happen. Life should always be so simple.
