Home renovation done right means there is a purging before packing and then when you return to the new old-house, you are unpacking only the things you kept. But in my case, I called movers to pack everything. And when they brought it back after the renovation was done, I realized I was paying to pack, store and twice transported all the things that I didn’t want.
While the nearby donation center saw a great number of household things being dropped off, my daughter’s boxes had stories of their own and we couldn’t arbitrarily and summarily toss all the things that were foundational to her childhood memories.
You see, from the time we packed for renovations to the time we brought everything back, my daughter had finished almost all of middle school. She had clothes that no longer fit and styles that were too childish for a teenager now. But there were some memorable pieces like a pink shawl that I called the ‘pink think’ which made her a trend setter in Grade 6. She’ll never fit into it again, but it is kept on a special padded hanger. There were other pieces that grandma had either sewed or knitted. And, of course, we haven’t even begun with her toys.
We spent the most time sorting her toys. These items were just chalked full of memories as she had spent hours and hours which fired her imagination. The bags of Littlest Pet Shops, plastic food for the small kitchen and over 100 metal cars complete with racing and train tracks. (We held on to those cars as they don’t make them of that quality anymore.) But beyond the truly precious and select stuffed animals, everything went to donation but not without some contemplation! I was surprised at first by her agreeability to purge but understood my daughter’s pragmatism that she will never really play with some of those toys again. “It would make another little girl really happy,” she said as she dropped off her boxes at the donation center, recalling her own memories.
No, you can’t give that away. In a few short years, you’ll be gone to university and I will be an empty nester. I would like to come into this room and be reminded of the childhood you shared with me.
When she was done, her room didn’t look like a child’s room anymore. It was clean and tidy with everything sorted. There were a few choice stuffed animals and some charming decorative adornments, but other than that, it looked like a teenager’s room!
We had one more piece to deal with: her doll house. I recall spending months shopping for one for her birthday and finally buying one that’s three feet wide, four feet tall and one foot deep. It had 3 floors and staircases. She spent hours there and even missed dinner once. Then she said, “Let’s donate that, too.” I paused and said, No. She was surprised at my protest. “Dad, I won’t play with dolls like that anymore. And I don’t have space in my room for it.” I insisted. I couldn’t understand why I insisted. Neither can my daughter. So, the dollhouse stayed in limbo for weeks.
Finally, at a weekly cleaning, I explained to my daughter my hesitation. The reason why I want you to keep it isn’t just because it reminds me of the great times we, but mostly you, had playing with it, but as I look at the grown-up-ness of this room, I want to be reminded that this was my little girl’s room. “But I live here, dad!” she assured. I sighed. In a few short years, you’ll be gone to university and I will be an empty nester. I would like to come into this room and be reminded of the childhood you shared with me.
It was a foreshadowed melancholic moment. I think I may have even moistened her eyes with this profound moment of tenderness. There was nothing she can say to counter it. “Ok, then let’s put this doll house on top of my small bookshelf and the house can store my stuffed animals.” We were finally happy with our great purge.
