I try, I really do try. My bedroom closet has clothes in it that haven't seen light in decades. I have a blouse I made in high school and the material I bought must have been to make slipcovers for chairs as it is the ugliest orange and green color I have ever seen. A dress I was bought brand new for my 8th grade graduation. The first dress I ever picked out for me, brand new and I loved it. If it fit I would still wear it.
I need to move about 20 stuffed animals and a small suitcase full of pictures to even get into my closet. This keeps the closet monster safely at bay. Most of my work clothes hang on a hook outside the door. Yes I know that is weird. But it helps me sleep at night. That and no mirror in my room.
I also have in my closet about 15 different "Nightmare before Christmas" figurines the husband used to collect back when money actually existed to spend in our lives. My closet is not that big either.
But the real reason I don't get in my closet much is this one small box. Every Time I open my closet door to start cleaning and culling it beckons to me. I can't resist stopping what I was planning to do and sitting down on my bed with it.
I open it slowly and pull out what I have safely tucked away inside. The few remaining items I kept from my son. I pull out his little blue sweater and hold it close, smelling it to see if I can catch a smell, a long gone memory. Next comes his little rabbit, his was blue and his twin sisters was pink. He passed away a few weeks after Easter on Memorial day weekend.
Next I pull his hats out, three of them, they served a dual purpose one for warmth and one to keep his face shaded as we walked with a stroller to his radiation appointments in San Fransisco. The last one to make him look stylish and make me smile. All hats were to keep the questions unasked about why his little head was marked with blue ink.
Last comes his little musical box that I would wind for him and place by his head while he underwent chemotherapy and all the needles and shots that accompanied it.
I wind it up and hold his little memories close and then gently place them back in the box, put it back up on the shelve and close my closet door.
Done for another year.