It was easy to quickly look in the box, notice the first few items, and relegate them to her "try on" pile. After all, the boxes were labelled "Size 10". I'm fairly sure I won't reach that size again in this lifetime, and was slowly becoming comfortable with that realization...or so I thought.
My daughter is often able to make quick, certain decisions, a skill which evades me. I watched her as she went through the stacks, holding up each piece of clothing, sorting them into maybe, hard yes, hard no piles. I watched dispassionately, yet impressed by her certitude. Only a quarter of the four dozen ended up as a maybe or yes.
Out of nowhere, my husband tossed me a pad of paper and a pen. "List what's going to Goodwill," he said, black trash bag whooshing open in his hands.
He holds up each piece, and I start to write and tally. Knit tops, t-shirts, dress pants. The white blouse with the beautiful lacework-edged sleeves. The beaded coral capris. The fitted button-down blouses that highlighted the slimmer waist I worked hard for in my forties. Several pieces of clothing still had tags on them; they were logged under the "new" column.
I could feel a heaviness forming behind my eyes and in my heart. The last piece of clothing went into the bag. I set the paper and pen down, wished everyone a good night, and went to bed mourning for the person who wore those clothes.
I feel your pain on this one. It is hard to not look at certain outfits and remember what used to be - situational or yourself! I have let go of some items I pass over in the closet for whatever reasons.
ReplyDeleteIt was hard thinking about how light and confident I felt back then. I need to get much, much better at letting go and accepting who I am now!
DeleteThe way you contrast your own emotional reaction with the matter-of-fact efficiency of your daughter and husband works so well in this piece. Sometimes clothes are more than clothes.
ReplyDeleteBingo, Amy. I didn't realize what a reminder they were of my confidence and successes back when they fit, and the different place, different feelings I have now. I am glad my daughter is able to dissociate from that sentimentality; clutter runs in the family!
DeleteYou embarked a tough and yet necessary task of letting go. Mourning for the past you is ok. I hope that in the morning you wake to greet the current you with a smile.
ReplyDeleteI'm working on it Terje; it's a hard task for me these days!
DeleteWow! This is a great post... I agree with Amy's comment about your emotionality contrasted with your daughter's and husband's practicality! I've been cleaning closets too. It's hard. I finally gave away my wedding rehearsal dinner dress in a bag to goodwill (we just celebrated our 34th anniversary). I was a size 0 then. I am not now and never will be. Still, for many reasons it was hard to let go. By cleaning out, maybe you'll make room for more clothing memories. BTW - your teaser prompt was great - it made me click on your story! Thanks for sharing it. Carol @ The Apples in My Orchard on WordPress.
ReplyDeleteCarol, I don't think I could give away such a sentimental item, so kudos to you! I have sooo many other clothes that I could wear a different outfit to work every day until I retire in eight or ten years--as long as I stay this size or one down, ha. Thanks for the compliment on the teaser! It really did feel like mourning the old, lighter, body-confident me as I went to bed that night.
DeleteYour use of contrast and lists in the piece are really effective. I really like how your descriptions of the clothes become more detailed and thus more important. I mourned with you as you wrote, " Knit tops, t-shirts, dress pants. The white blouse with the beautiful lacework-edged sleeves. The beaded coral capris. The fitted button-down blouses that highlighted the slimmer waist I worked hard for in my forties" even though you hadn't yet written that you were mourning. And interestingly, I, too, wrote about letting go of a past me in today's post. Maybe it's the way that early August already smells ever so slightly of fall...
ReplyDeleteThank you, Amanda. It was written from a place of pure, unexpected emotion, so I'm delighted that literary elements crept in. And yes, since these were the work clothes of my past, it definitely ties in with the fall feelings of August as we embark on a new school year.
DeleteThis week I almost wrote about a snakeskin I found - shed and left behind. It can be a metaphor for many things - hadn't thought about clothes until I read your post. For we do change and it is not easy to let the former image go...BUT, it does not mean that the present image is any less valuable. Yet I understand the mourning. Not solely for a younger, slimmer or better self, I think, or for the clothes themselves - but that time passes so very quickly.
ReplyDeleteI think it was more of a mourning for the sense of self I felt back then; my forties were a powerful awakening for me, and I could almost feel it in those clothes. Time to make new memories, I suppose! I am glad you finally decided to write about that snakeskin; I gleaned a lot from that post, Fran.
DeleteI totally get it. I've never considered myself a fashionista and I'm not a fan of shopping, but I sure am having a hard time getting rid of a bag full of my old favorite dresses that no longer fit. Sigh...
ReplyDeleteIt's so hard to let go of an image we've adopted for ourselves, isn't it? I've had to surrender to a lot that's beyond my control in this life, and it irks me that this is yet one. more. thing. Sigh, indeed.
DeleteYes, mourning, as Fran said, sometimes for the decades that can just roll off. Your telling of your story is so poignant, and shows your heart and memories coming through the clothes, things your husband and daughter didn't really understand like you.
ReplyDeleteDenise, I love your insight, pointing out that nobody can ever truly understand us the way we know ourselves. For them, it's just clothes; for us, it's having to shed that skin we were comfortable, confident, powerful in.
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