Ive recently discovered I’m kind of a hoarder.
Not so much of things purchased–but of all things any things which have absolutely *anything* to do with the Child.
Things we bought while living together in Guatemala.
belt, bag, booties, hat = hoarded.
Things she’s made for me and subsequently wanted to use/play with herself:
no. you may NOT borrow my cup.
I’m uncertain when this all started (prior to the ‘mala I really was a “hold on loosely, but don’t let go” woman), yet I’ve noticed it bleed into all areas of my life.
I love these! I won’t wear these ’til there’s an “occasion.”
Shoes, jewelry, outfits, *stuff* I adore and still shove into a box or closet because I love them so much I want to save them for an occasion.
It’s a life-approach which makes sense in my head, but indeed sounds crazypants (technical term) when typed out on a screen.
I spend so much time obsessing over whether something can be replaced I never pause to enjoy the “thing” at all.
“special occasion” necklace created from a note she wrote me
This holding on too tightly came to a proverbial head when I stumbled upon a fabric bag while searching for something else.
Inside the bag, stuffed at some point by saver-me, was a mass of tangled bracelets.
Woven bracelets of different colors, thickness and materials I only vaguely remembered buying at a market in Central America.
Bracelets I’d tucked away and, for lack of a better word, hoarded.
The Child immediately asked if she could wear them.
I, almost as immediately, responded NO.
what cRaZy person would say NO to this?
Thankfully, almost as soon as I instinctively told her NO, I realized the error of my ways.
The error of my current lifestyle.
If I was honest with myself I had absolutely no idea why I’d saved the bracelets and never worn them.
I had a hazy memory of picking them out with her (for her? I can’t recall.), but felt absolutely no pang of sentimental attachment when they tumbled from the bag.
I retracted my NO!, insisted the Child wear the bracelets and keep them, and I stepped back and examined my life.
I saw how I, in the same way friends have waited to “live” until after they’ve lost weight or are “skinny,” too, had been waiting.
this is LIFE. LIFE is an occasion.
And at almost 46 I should know better.
And, as a parent, I do know better and am aware we need to practice what we long to preach.
And a new attitude was born.
An approach to life which has become a call and response for the child and me.
On practically a daily basis (a reminder of how *often* we’ve opportunities to celebrate life & how frequently I’d missed them due to “saving.”).
Shall we save _____ for a special occasion?
(Because LIFE is a special occasion!)
dress purchased for a special occasion. school is a special occasion!
Life is a special occasion, indeed.
I’m finished waiting, holding on too tightly and saving stuffs for someday special.
Life is a special occasion.
Which all leads me to my final, non-rhetorical questions:
- Are you saving, holding on and waiting? What are you waiting for?