There is one thing I cannot declutter
I have absorbed many podcasts, books, instructions, and blog posts about decluttering, minimalizing and clearing your space of the unnecessary. Some are prescriptive, with detailed plans – both helpful and unhelpful; some are a vague set of questions to ask yourself whilst holding that amber cigarette holder and twirling it in your fingers: Well … it belonged to my Grandma, you explain.
I am settling into my version of cosy minimalism and you may have read my thoughts on the benefits of clearing your space. But … there is a weak spot; an Achilles’ heel…
Bear getting ready for photoshoot
I hold the flippy threadbare sandfilled bear in the palm of my hand, stroking its belly with my thumb. I swear it looks back at me, pulling at my heartstrings, opening a well-protected mental box of memories. The once satin label was merely a few strands of thread – now, having been rubbed, loved and sniffed into oblivion, only a delicate spiderweb remained, forming the essence of that bear.
‘Remember?’ The bear seemed to ask, ‘remember the first visit to Tumble Tots?’
‘Yes,’ I replied, gently acknowledging the bear’s quiet plea.
I remember walking my little boy home, pointing at an autumn leaf falling from a tree, a fire engine, blackberries ripening by the roadside … all the nuggets of chat and observations that would become a ritual for many years to come: on walks from playgroups, playdates, birthday parties, primary school…
It was only on reaching home that the catastrophe, the panic appeared on his little face.
Where was bear?
There is little in life that breaks my heart more than the distress of my little toddler, when he has lost his bear, his tiny features crinkled, catching tears as they run unchecked across his face, when the realisation hits you …
We must have left bear at the playgroup!
We retraced our steps back, but no bear was to be found. The hall was closed now, and we would have to wait until the next day. There followed a very long night and day.
Was bear lost? Had another child taken a shine to bear? Had bear got lost among all the other toys and be impossible to find? How would this tale of loss end?
What if bear had been kidnapped?
I hoped the ransom would be affordable; I wasn’t ready to do time for bank robbery (but well … ?)
Oops! Let me try again
Because I am now cradling the little bear in my hand, you can deduce that after many tears and consolation attempts, the story ended well. Bear was reconciled with his little owner. There was joy, glee, and a clapping of small chubby hands …. for two minutes. Then, bear was unceremoniously deposited on the floor and promptly replaced with a shiny red fire engine.
So have you guessed what I cannot declutter?
‘Is it bears?’ I hear you guess;
‘No’
‘Is it … old toys?’ you try again;
Still ‘No’
‘What then … what can you not declutter?’
‘Stories’ I whisper to the bear … ‘Stories’,
and I gently place him back into my irreplaceable box of treasures.
