FROM THE FRONT PORCH continued FROM THE FRONT PORCH continued
love and especially the life! You hear it all of the
time, “With my firstborn, I took a ton of photos,
bought special things, etc. However, with each
consecutive child, everything fell apart!” Well,
being an example of such as I am the second of 3
girls, I was determined to keep up the pace with
each of my children. My sons are thankful... but
when it came time to move all of the memories,
the cold, hard realization that each son would
not become the President of the United States,
and no, our nation wouldn’t be needing all of his
belongings to stock a museum, the cleaning out
became top priority. Ha! Help!
No longer privileged with an attic mimicking
a Hallmark movie, my sorting of memories
became necessary as my “new attic” transitioned
into sharing space in the garage with my sons’
workout gym. Going from lots of space to now
little, I had to clean out the lot to now little as
the stacks narrowed to only the extraordinary!
Thousands of papers consolidated to only
the most special drawings, the priceless cards
from loved ones, and the handwritten notes
validating a life moment.
Needing to move out quickly robbed the
chance to go through every single box before
the move. So with time opening up in the new
year, the need to eliminate the number of boxes
offered both delight and dilemma as the contents
brought oohs and aahs, laughter and tears, and
oh my goodness—I think I kept everything. And
I mean everything. Life unfolds in the cards,
newspaper clippings and invitations celebrating
weddings, babies, and anniversaries in tandem
with mine. Scripted fonts record the unions of
love; time has unveiled those who made it, those
who didn’t. The babies of the announcements
are now college students making their way in
the world. The penmanship of Kindergarteners
learning the alphabet has graduated to job
applications. Handwritten letters from my dad
who passed all too soon from the effects of Agent
Orange bring tears. Cards from Aunt Sally his
sister now continue the love with celebrations
of Valentine’s, Easter, Thanksgiving, and
Sorting through Memories
by Rebekah King
My spring cleaning started in January. Well,
months and months before then, actually years
before. Yes, definitely the cleaning out and sorting
through memories has occurred over a process
of time, thought, and taking care of matters. It’s
interesting how all of the accumulated stuff that
once seemed so important now finds me eager
to rid of as fast as possible—so much stuff! As the
loads upon loads are taken to either donations
or the dump, the heaviness lifts a much lighter
load to manage.
I have found that the best remedy for cleaning
out the clutter is to have a change of address.
The initial clean out begins immediately, but
once you start packing up, the boxes quickly
accumulate into intimidating towers of Goliath.
You know that desperate point wherein you just
start throwing things away rather than pack
another souvenir, coffee table book, or sweater.
Usually the un-closing trailer door that refuses
to latch makes the ultimate decision.
Going from an accumulated 6,700 total sq ft
home place to about 1,400 or so was no small
feat, but in the end—it felt so good! Incredible,
really! Sure the process was most difficult in
deciding what to keep, what to give, what to
toss. Pretty much it all boiled down to, “Do I
use it? Do I love it? Do I need it?” With so many
items consuming precious space in our overscheduled
lives, stuff becomes bondage pretty
quickly! Shuffling the stuff becomes a full time
job; is it really worth so much life?
Yes, a move commenced my sorting through
memories. A life change rerouting a new
journey through a trail of tears initiated the
sale of the family home. I guess at some point,
we all have to leave the places that hold the
dearest memories of our children growing up.
My memories include the wrap around porch
transforming into a race track for the boys and
their scooters and the garage always buzzing
as the boys hammered out their creations of
swords, birdhouses and moving machines. I
miss hearing the sound of the footsteps on
the pine flooring wherein you knew who was
coming downstairs based on their walk from
the bedrooms wherein the boys chose their
favorite paint color. Gray for Jon as he wanted
a neutral base as a teenager. Green for Ben our
calm, peaceful thinker. Blue for Nic who desired
the color of the open sky and running water of
outdoor adventure. Red, white and blue for Mat
and Wes who love all things Patriots football and
Americana.
Cleaning out the attic brought the most
emotion as this space held the most important
family belongings. Have you noticed how
movies capture this special place as well? For
some reason, the overflowing attic graced with
aged wooden beams, framed windows, and
soft light tugs at our heart strings. We all have
these spaces, whether an attic, a basement,
or closet, that contain the treasured school
art projects, dress-up costumes, homemade
Christmas ornaments, baby clothes and
outgrown highchair. Sometimes the memories
come from generations past such as the black
and white photos from Granny King, the teapot
from Grandma Price, or the military uniform full
of ribbons from Papa. Recording genealogies,
capturing childhood milestones, and reminding
of happy times, the attic challenged my heart. I
experienced a much easier time going through
the other levels of my home as things purchased
from favorite stores or thrift shops were neutral
in the cleaning out. The memories in the attic,
however, told a different story.
Motherhood hit me hard—in all good ways.
Once I held my firstborn son, it was all over. I
had never known such love, and this love only
continued with my second, third, fourth, and
fifth. Each son who followed only magnified the
FROM THE FRONT PORCH con't. next column FROM THE FRONT PORCH con't. next column
Christmas. Ah yes! The Christmas letters and
photos are always kept.
The scrapbooks bring a flood of memories
as I remember being a young mom sitting at the
vintage card table given to me from my family
while cleaning out my Grandpa Price’s home.
My mom tells she can still see her Grandparents
William Daniel and Lulu Mae playing cards from
the red melamine top table wrapped in shiny
chrome that sat in the corner of the kitchen. I
still can’t part with the table which now serves as
an art table for my Nicolas and Wesley. My heart
smiles to see them enjoying the little red table.
Boxes holding the sports jerseys, team
photos, and trophies remembering seasons of
victory and defeat are abundant in a houseful
of boys. I will never forget our first exposure to
4 year old baseball! First time up to bat with
bases loaded, Jonathan knocks a grand slam!
Rounding first, second, third, then home to
SCORE!!!!!!! My heart could have exploded right
then and there; his unbelievable hit confirmed
what I already knew—he was a STAR! “That’s
my boy!” Pretty much every single other time
up the bat from there on out, he struck out! Ha!
One year Ben and Nic’s team lost every single
game; the next year, they won every single
game. From baseball, to soccer, to football, we
experienced all of the sports. Ultimately they all
fell in love with football, and of course, all five
boasted of dreams to become NFL players; only
the youngest 2 still hang on to this hope. Pretty
much you learn how to take the wins along
with the losses from the ball field into real life;
playing sports is a win-win!
As the trash bags fill up, the boxes slim down
to contain only the most important treasures
of life. In conquering my spring cleaning
which ultimately became my sorting through
memories, I now find myself with more time,
more energy, and more reason to live! As we
clean out the clutter, somehow we clear the
mind and the most important things come into
beautiful focus.
Once you clear the clutter and shuffle the
stuff one last time, you'll be free to enjoy new
adventure! Explore our downtowns; shop the local
mom and pops; play in the parks. Make a new list
of life and live boldly, love fiercely, and laugh until
you cry! As you collect new memories, only hold
onto those most important! A most happiest of
sorting through memories, my friends. ☐
How fast time flies! Happy memories include
Nicolas' first wheels at 1 year & his other set at 16.
No. 134 The Pinehurst Gazette, Inc. p.3