Memories at the Attic
I was cleaning the attic today and may I say it took me the whole day to do it. It was very hard going through things and I’m afraid I was still not finished with it yet, not even close. I thought it would be an easy task as our attic was not really a big one by any means, but still, I never did get anything done with it.
Well the problem stems from the fact that once I picked something up, sentimentality strikes me and there I am holding a thing, trying very hard to reminisce days of old. I told myself that I’ll be done with cleaning in a jiffy but apparently that was not to be.
We keep various stuffs in our attic for storage like Christmas decorations, old furniture, the children’s toys which they outgrew already, old clothes, shoes, memorabilia, pet cages, an aquarium, lamps, tools, everything.
There was that old walker that my children had used when they were young, the wooden rocking horse that got relegated to the attic after one of the children fell from it, the children’s versatile play yard which was touted as the best pack n play during those times, heck, I even remember getting lost just trying to assemble that thing.
Then there was the best lightweight luggage that my wife and I have ever owned. It’s a new tenant here in the attic as we just used it about a year ago during our vacation to Hawaii. Well you can say it was actually light and spacious enough that we never needed any other luggage after it. Of course the kids have their own bags too but that is another story.
Let’s say that the things I mentioned above cost me too much time already just identifying them, with “identifying” meaning reminiscing, and it already ate up a whole days’ worth of work, and I’m not even done with them yet. Thankfully I managed to have lunch, which is really a feat as I can’t seem to put things down.
And then there are also the old photo albums of me when I was a kid, the old photos of the children, photos of my wife and me after we got married, and photos of everything! Maybe it is safe to say that a whole week in the attic might be enough to go through everything, or maybe not.
I’m not complaining about it, not a bit. In fact I am enjoying myself doing it. I could go on and on just looking at the things which has become part of my life. It’s kind of like revisiting an old friend, no, much more than that. It’s really like being in that moment again and knowing now what that moment meant to your life, which was not apparent that time.
I hope my work at the attic never gets finished at all. Maybe I could even live there when I’m already old and weary, because there I could be young again.