Now What?! Waxing Sentimental

I have always been sentimental. For as long as I can remember, it has made me giddy to see any items from someone’s story or history. Looking through scrapbooks, home movies, and possessions from the past intrigue me to no end. My mom was an Army brat, which meant frequent moves to different bases – both domestic and abroad. Each move prompted more possessions to be discarded, as a way to keep things efficient. Because I didn’t see much in the way of memorabilia from my mom’s childhood, I overcompensated by wanting to keep everything that may mean something someday.

This is in direct contrast to my advice from last month’s article about purging unnecessary clutter, but hey, I was a teenager – I kept everything! Invitations to birthday parties, mix tapes, posters, t-shirts, dried flowers from boys, and movie ticket stubs were among the collection. Those keepsakes are all pretty normal, right?

When I cleaned out my bins from the my childhood attic when I moved out, however, some of my high school keepsakes were a little less than ‘normal.’ I found a piece of paper with nothing on it except the writing in small print ‘Joey gave me this in Spanish.’ And an empty Dr. Pepper can that I remember keeping because Paul bought it for me. (I am changing all names to protect my dignity, just in case someone from high school reads this.)Most of my keepsakes did not survive my move from childhood to the marital home, but some did. The items I still hold dear are the ones I have saved for decades – having no idea that they would still mean something. The cassette single that I played in Ricky’s truck when he’d give me a ride home, or the notes he wrote me asking for advice on how to ask out one of my fellow cheerleaders.Ricky died right before the start of our senior year, which made the items I found that much more treasured as tangible reminders of our friendship. Another morsel I came across was a flyer for a birthday party for one Mr. Jason Mraz from the eighth grade with ‘Stephanie H.’ at the top in orange marker.Post-marriage and in becoming a mom, I was a bit more selective about what I kept, but there was a new set of responsibilities associated with what defined sentimental. I now needed to start thinking about what I wanted for my son, his future spouse, their children, or even their children. Not to mention that because I consider myself the keeper of family history, I take into consideration my nieces and nephews.My Titi (Aunt) Betty gave me some dresses that my Nana made when my oldest cousin was born. These delicate little linen and cotton dresses were so precious and brought tears to my eyes to think of her making them. I have kept them protected wrapped in the same plastic within which they were given to me, in the hopes of passing them down.Nana watches us all but she will now be able to watch her great great grandchildren, the newest of whom is a girl who will be wearing a dress made half a century earlier. (I still find weird things of my son’s that I kept, and I make no apologies. I may have come across his heart monitor stickers and band-aids from the NICU and hypothetically found a plastic bag with his umbilical cord. Don’t judge me.)Now the memorabilia bins are in the attic of my son’s childhood home, waiting for him to decipher what to keep and what to trash. Hopefully the memories will make him smile, even if it is in disbelief of my sappiness.