Mom’s “mess”

A dozen years ago, I moved from a small city in central Wisconsin to Madison. It was pretty clear I needed to be in Madison to be closer to my mom. And if it hadn’t been, the universe was quick to point it out.

Every time she moved to a smaller space, some of her stuff ended up in my small house. And there it still sits. I’ve been trying to work on the space for 30 minutes a day, but it’s cold and often depressing to be going through her things.

When I do get to working, I message my siblings to see if anyone wants whatever it is I have. Most of the time, the answer is no. Sometimes, though, especially with her cool artwork, they say yes. 

So I end up with boxes labeled by sib name. Sometimes I mail things, like to my brother, because I need to get things gone. Some of the things I just can’t touch, yet. My mom kept all the cards she received when my sister was killed. They were in a damp basement so they are musty. Even after all these years, I can’t quite throw them out.

I long to live a life of simplicity. I have my KonMari vision statement from years ago, but still have not followed the process. I want that life of a welcoming home, whenever it is safe to welcome people in again. And instead of a basement that’s some kind of museum to my ancestors, I want it to be a workout space, or something.