Sunday, February 9, 2014

Sunday Confessions: In My Closet

Thank you for joining me for another Sunday Confessions!


Today's Sunday Confession prompt:
In My Closet

I'm sitting here on my bed with my laptop in front of me, looking into my closet.

I'm sure the contents are the same as anyone else's closet: clothes I wear to work, funeral clothes, and clothes I wear for special occasions.  Plus my skinny clothes that I dream of fitting in again some day. The shoes I wore to prom that were one size too big a decade ago but I somehow grew into.  The Candies boots that I bought on Clearance from an expensive shoe store in the mall with money that I got for having the most accurate drawer at my first job cashiering at a local grocery store (those boots are listed as Vintage now...maybe if I hold on to them they will be worth something someday.)

But at the bottom of my closet are the mementos of my life, some of the things I've saved from moments that took my breath away, things I never wanted to forget, small pieces of the things that mattered. 

A little, cheap ring from an arcade from the first boy who ever asked me to be his girlfriend and ended up being my first kiss. 

Ticket stubs from the first play I ever went to- Romeo and Juliet- with a sweet, wonderful boy named Chris who I have many wonderful, fond memories from. 

A token with an Irish Blessing on it purchased in the gift shop of a shrine where I went to see an exhibit on the shroud of Turin.

Two golden tickets from the International Native American Flute Festival that I went to with my mom who bought them for us because Bill Miller was going to be playing.  And tickets from events we went to after that.

The plane ticket from my first trip to Texas.

A swatch and extra sequins for my prom dress. 

Miscellaneous trinkets from boyfriends past.

Old birthday cards, letters from loves that slowly but surely burned out, reminders of the things I've seen and done. 

The first jewelry box my parents gave to me as a kid.  Inside of it, a porcelain unicorn they bought for me and a little toy that my father gave to me one Christmas as a Child. 

Another jewelry box that was my mother's.  She had wanted to throw it but I insisted on keeping the plain, wooden box that was home to the worn ballerina with one broken arm.  Inside it, I keep a necklace my mother made for me when my brother was born.  A napkin from my parent's wedding.  A silver charm my Dad bought for me.  And every single quarter machine ring my little brother every gave me.

There is also a box of pictures.  Family pictures.  Old School pictures.  Pictures I took as a teenager for wall collages made of photos of me and my friends. Pictures of old loves.  Pictures of those I've loved and lost. 

The boyfriend-that-was was always really bothered by my box of photos.  He couldn't understand why I would keep all the things I have tucked away.  Especially things like pictures of my exes, or heaven forbid...anything ANYONE from my past might have given me.  Truth be told, I don't know how to be anything BUT a sentimental being.  Those objects....they don't rule my life.  I don't pull out the memories and weep over days gone by.  Nor do I long for the men of my past...most of which I consider a blessing to have loved and lost.  I've had some of the best moments of my life with people who were only there for a short period of time.

Perhaps I'm too sensitive or too sentimental, but I can't help but think that maybe someday when I'm an old woman....I'd like to remember dancing in the middle of the street or feeling the movement inside a warm goose egg standing in the middle of a train bridge under a beautiful, starry Northern sky.  I don't ever want to forget the cool things I saw and did with my Mom.  I don't ever want to lose the memory of getting on a plane for love. 

In light of recent events, there is a small part of my that might be just a little bit afraid of losing me as I grow older.  Maybe this is my way of forever holding on to who I was. 


  1. Oh girl. We are too much alike. I am a mushball about sentiments too...I remember one time, my sister and I (who shared a room) were both cleaning out our closets. I turned o her for advice, "This sweater that Auntie made for us 2 years ago for Christmas...I feel bad but I never wear it anymore and it' s just taking up space. But she spent so much time on it, I feel bad just giving it away." She laughed, "WHAT? I got rid of that forever ago!" She and I are so different like that- she doesn't need the tokens and trinkets to remind her of things. I do. Maybe she just has a better memory than I do. But I have gotten better about parting with shoes....only to make room for new ones though!

    1. I have a hell of a time getting rid of anything someone made me by hand. Want me to keep something for 2 decades even though I hate it? Make it.

  2. I have all sorts of old stuff I can't let go if in my closet. I even have a box full of old love letters from an old boyfriend. I just can't bring myself to throw that stuff away.

    1. I start reading the letters and then can't let them go. Lol.

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  4. Gorgeous! It sounds like you're holding on to all of the right things. I lost boxes and boxes of books and mementos in a move almost ten years ago and I STILL look for some of those things! Keep holding on :)

  5. I had to read this twice. It is that good. What a beautiful piece. I love it so very much. I love your sentimental side and the writing it produces it just lovely. So good. XOXO

    I am going to read it one more time.....

  6. Just beautiful. I have lots of old trinkets and mementos. I used to have a trunk full but I threw it away in the midst of a move because I was tired of lugging it around. I regret it to this day.

  7. I am a sentimentalist too. Mostly over paper items--letters, cards, etc. The good thing is, the only boy that tried to woo me before my husband....I couldn't stand him. Even at the time. I sure don't own anything he ever gave me or wrote to me. But everyone that I do have good memories's hard to throw away stuff!

    1. Thanks for stopping by Rachel! can be hard, but I think inside of me there is a minimalist trying to escape.