We have been faced with a serious rat infestation in our storage area. For nearly 40 years we've put things there. It held the detritus of our lives and the history too. Box upon box, big plastic bin stacked upon big plastic bin. Bob's mother's sewing machine from 1938, the bed frame of the boys bunk bed and so much more. Books that could find no home in an upstairs shelf. Then the reality of the rats hit us. Everything had to be taken out, sorted through. There are years and years of tax records and I've been carefully going through the mildewed returns separating pages that have our social security numbers on them (to be shredded). Sorting through boxes left by our children (college detritus for example), treasures from Bob's parents' house (nearly 25 years ago) and things too good to throw out or things Bob thought he might use again. It's a huge smelly job. It overwhelmed us both. But now more than half-way through, after numerous trips to the dump, I am surprisingly beginning to feel enormous sense of gratitude for the many years of our life together, for the wonderful life we've had. It quite a profound turn around to see the richness and goodness stored away. Everything hasn't been thrown out, precious letters, family history and much else has been carefully put into new or washed out plastic bins. Now we know what's there and maybe I'll even catalog the bins.
Sent from my iPad
No comments:
Post a Comment