I am cleaning out The Drawer That Never Gets Cleaned Out. Some things I’ve found:
–My ex-husband’s address book from the early 80’s (and mine too)
–A certificate of congratulations from the Young American Bowling Alliance recognizing my then-7-year-old son on his high game (80) and high series (200) (November 11, 1991)
–At least twelve key chains (I quit counting), including one that is a brass replica of a ticket to Phantom of the Opera
–My TWA Frequent Flight Bonus Program Member card (Not Transferable)
–A tiny vial labeled Smoke Bomb Oil
–The instruction booklet for a pager
–The key to a car I haven’t had since 1997
–More return address labels than I’ll probably ever use
–A booklet from Pacific Bell that includes instructions for a rotary phone
–Four bookmarks with sayings on them: 1) Love is sharing your book. 2) This book very good, but this bookmark DELICIOUS! (with a picture of Cookie Monster). 3) When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. 4) I finally got it all together…but I forgot where I put it.
–A little plastic thingy that connects a cable to VHF/UHF thingys on a TV
–A Home Depot card with a receipt showing a store credit of $123.63 (12/10/03)
–Gummy bear earrings (discolored, disfigured)
–The key chain I used in junior high and high school, which has a green frog on one side and a mirror on the other
–Lip gloss, Dr. Pepper flavor
–A piece of 8.5 x 11 paper folded four times with a tiny pencil drawing of a stick figure on the outside and the word “INTEGUMENTARY” written twice on the inside
–Keys and locks—some actually go together
–A laminated picture of Katherine Harris on a chain that says: “Conspiracy Theory #359: W. is Katherine Harris in disguise. Think about it.”
–The broken off arm of a bowling trophy (the arm that has the ball in it)
Sifting through stuff = Sifting through memories = Sifting through places and stages of life and people = Sifting through ideas and identity.
I didn’t expect that cleaning out this drawer would lead to the Zombie Resurrection of Memories, but it did. I was progressing nicely. Several items were already in the garbage. Then I got the urge to make a list, which I knew would become this blog post. Then I had to take a photo, so I asked The Scout for the black velvet background and drafted him to assist with composition. Then I dug through the trash and found the Smoke Bomb Oil.
Why the Smoke Bomb Oil? Because I miss my boys. They are men now, and I am fortunate enough to see them from time to time. But I miss my boys, and I have dreams about them as little kids. Can I blame this on hormones?
Some years back, my dad told me several times that he missed me as a little girl. I didn’t appreciate him saying that to me. I’m still here, Pop, right in front of you! But now I know what he means.
I parted with the Smoke Bomb Oil, but not with the button with the baseball kid, or the bowling certificate. I regret to say I couldn’t throw out the bowling arm either…not until it is reunited with the rest of the trophy (which I still have).
One drawer down…the rest of the house to go.