Monday, August 23, 2010

Forgive Me Olive For I Have Binned...

Dear Olive,
I want you to know that I am sitting here selling your toys. Your ExerSaucer (you loved that - do I have a picture of you playing in it?) your high chair, your train (you just started moving backwards), your busy ball popper...and it is much harder than I ever thought these things can be.

It's not every day you move 3500 miles cross country. Ok...so we have done it twice in one year - well, why not, eh? Back to your Manhattan roots. It's all a big adventure and although financial necessity has forced us on this road, I like to think that we are thrifty (Portland) trailblazers moving the wrong way on the Oregon Trail. (Thank you, thank you...i'll be here some of this week).

So, we are selling everything and while my life is now in one smushed suitcase (no, really) - getting rid of your stuff seems, well, wrong. Now, this is not 'willy nilly' trashing. I'm storing anything that holds strong memories of you. Yesterday that was everything - this morning I was down to 4 boxes, well, plastic tubs, large plastic tubs. I can't help it. I started purging with anything blue, then yellow and was going to get to purple but thought better of it. However, as I just shed a tear over donating your first pair of converse - I realised how many items from my childhood I still have. Um, that would be none. I think my mum still has my baby teeth. Does that count? I'm sorry, darling, everything must go...except the sleep suit you came home from the hospital in. That and your blankets and the first hat your daddy bought you.

Easy? No. Emotional. Yes, yes, yes. Yet, as the last of the Craigslist buzzards arrive to take the couch, I am strangely liberated. Your fascination with Tupperware and a wooden spoon has me a changed woman.

Anyway, as you read this in 20 odd years time and you ask about your favorite toys and games, please know that I am capturing this memory and storing it here. Nothing you can touch, but something I hope you feel.

I'm going now - there's someone at the door coming to view your Boppy and Peanut Sling (who does that?)

Love, Mum

P.s. You have had an awful lot of fun bouncing on the air mattress these past two weeks.