Thank You, Daughter

A few weeks ago, I asked my daughter for help in rearranging, sorting, clearing, or whatever it took to give our home a new interior look, aside from painting. 

"I'm busy, Mom," seemed to be the response. Then a week later a letter arrived for me (Our tribute to Helen Stapp, grandma and mom is to regularly correspond through hand-written letters and thoughtful short notes.) 

Inside I found this picture and quote from daughter Katy.

 

I'll hold on to this picture from a magazine like I have so many others, and one day Katy will clean out my personal belongings and find these thoughts. 

Still, I wanted help, or more importantly I wanted to spend some time with my daughter.   On Labor Day weekend I attacked the hidden junk pieces that once had purpose or meaning, but now were pushed to the back of closets, crowded cupboards and bookshelves.

That was a simple chore, emptying and cleaning.

Then came the stacking, tossing, and sorting. When Jack walked by, he'd touch my shoulder, "Are you doing alright?"

"Ha!" I laughed.

Murphy hid under the dining room table and occasionally stepped out to say, "Let's go outside." 

One day later the cupboard was cleaned, refilled, and usable. Now the stacks remain to be given away. The garbage man picked up a load this morning, not knowing how many old memories were inside that green dumpster like the shot glasses we once used for a Julia Child book club dinner and discussion; The assorted yellowed napkins from seasonal parties, travels, and just for fun; The decorative pillows now faded and worn. All gone.

Once when a tornado destroyed a teacher's home in Kansas, she told us in the lunchroom that now she didn't have to worry about all of her mismatched napkins, kitchen towels, washcloths and other bits and pieces of her life. They were gone. I think I held onto to those items for her, but now I've told her story and given it all away. 

My heart felt the success of a dieter after losing five pounds in the first week.

I tend to be like a tick when it comes to completing a task. I take hold and don’t let go until it’s finished or I’m exhausted. Day two I began again pulling out decorative glassware, trophies, piles of seasonal flowers, and other decorative pieces. Now the house looked totally trashed.

On day three I began refreshing the woodwork before playing with books, bookends, and glassware. Day four continued much the same until Katy came down for lunch. Our treat to each other is a meal at The Greek House on Jenkins Street. They serve the most tasty lamb Gyros sandwiches in the USA.

With both of us full and stories shared, we returned home and looked at the surroundings. Katy looked over the shelving and made a few suggestions. She likes a more asymmetrical approach while I like balance, but we agree on colors, splashes of uniqueness, and keeping it simple.  

She took a few candles and said good-bye.

Alas, in the middle of the night, I smiled in my sleep as I pictured what I needed to do.  Funny how we look at life on this side of the hill. I have a voice in the back of my head that says, “How many more years will you be around to enjoy this moment, this item, this book, this garden?”

It is a helping voice. It helps me focus and appreciate living in the moment.

That is how it came to me that night. I’ve never displayed my golf trophies, unless they held flowers. With all of them sitting on the dining room table I realized that I’d better enjoy them now.

Days later, I am still arranging and rearranging our living room bookshelves and mantle, and I think I have it settled in my mind’s eye. With the white highlight (thank you daughter for the color splash idea) I should be able to decorate for the holidays around what I have up and not have to take this down until the next time I become tired of the scenery.

 I did express myself....and hopefully, shared bits and pieces of our family life. 

Thank you Katy.