26 September 2010

brave little toaster syndrome.

today is my birthday.
i'm going into 26 feeling heavy and full.
blessed and excited, but full.
a week ago, my grandma's younger sister died.
friday night, my 16-year-old chihuahua died.
today, i am officially one year older.
and tomorrow marks five years since one of
my best friends passed.
and my son is due any day. 

i have spent the better part of the last two weeks settling into our farmhouse...
i've been moving at what feels like an incredibly slow speed.
though i do have a self-imposed "deadline"...
i'm trying my pregnant darnedest to get this place ready
(of course i understand he won't care too much about
 the state of his first home, but i do).
it has made me so very tired.
it's the same house i lived in when i was little.
but we have it looking completely different.

then, paul and i spent yesterday hosting a
pathetic little mini yardsale with our main intention being to sell
this antique bedroom suite of mine.
our new home is simply too small,
and i have enjoyed purging all the excess.
however, as i sat there yesterday, watching the cars go by...
most not stopping...i stared at the back of the vanity that has been
 in my family's possession for years
(though not an heirloom), and my heart began to ache.
i imagined it to be a person...
standing there on display, not garnering any attention.
no one wanting it. no one thinking it special.
i didn't even want it anymore really.
i saw it as homeless and old and sad and unrecognized
and empty and unappreciated.
over 100 years old and now a has been on the curb.
splendor lost.
i felt like i was casting away a friend
who had been there by my side,
and i cried.
why was i insisting upon changing everything
and choosing to part with something
i could have found a way to keep?
too much change at once.
a little part of me said "hold on a little longer"...
and i tried to explain it to paul...
how sad the furniture looked. how unwanted all the stuff must feel.
he said i was being riduculous and had
brave little toaster syndrome.
he was right of course.

now, i know i am sentimental, and i do feel that it is ok to "love"
certain things, things that bring you great joy and hold special memories...
prizes and treasures,
but i do realize how silly it is to become attached in such a way
that it should ever cause you distress.
stuff is just stuff...the furniture no more than wood and nails.
and there are actual people who deserve
the outpouring of my heart.
tears need not be shed over furniture.

it's just odd how your emotions seep out.
it really was all about change,
about being overwhelmed.
i was really sad about Dottie. sad about Derek.
scared and raw and exhausted
and hormonal (had to throw that one in there)...
and crying during our yardsale at the most random of times.

((and i just trapped a huge spider under a lid and don't have the heart to kill it.
i'm that emotionally confused right now.))

but, let it be known,
ready or not,
of all things crowding my thoughts:
my son will be here soon...
and, for that reason,
i feel a tremendous amount of undeniable, unmistakable joy.

PS. the furniture set DID in fact sell. a lovely couple saw it for all it had to offer,
all its potential, and now it is going off to live with a new family to love it,
restore it, give it new life and purpose.
hopefully, they too will pass it down when it's time.
i'm glad other people choose to own things with a past and a story.
i think we're all connected.


  1. First, I wish you a blessed year as I know with the birth of your child the fantastically fun age that you are at and the new place you find yourself standing in will all converge together so beautifully...
    Just right...

    I of corse am not pregnant, yet completely feel your attachment to said articles of sentimental value... {its the detriment to our womanhood} their have been novels written about our emotional connections to the darnedest of things... and yet it's so fine that you can see an item for what it is and say goodbye to the tangible part yet hold on to the memories connected to it... its very endearing, you...

    KE SARA' , SARA' , what ever will be , will be...

    All my heart,

  2. Oh, my dear sweet Little Mama,

    This made me tear up, because I am the woman who names everything, and subsequently have a hard time letting it NOT be human.

    While driving Jones to the vet this morning to get his teeth looked at I was listening to him yowling, petting him through the carrier and seeing his vacant, fearful eyes and realizing that in this moment he is an animal, and not 'my' cat. A scared animal.

    Once home, all sweet all over again, but still, the daily realization that we put so much 'humanity' into our animals and our surroundings and our belongings and really they are wood, nails, domesticated 'wild' creatures and such that we never 'own'-
    we borrow them for a time.

    May your letting go be as peaceful as possible, and I send hugs galore. And condolences for the loss of your wonderful pet and your relation.