My Dilemma

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The weather hasn’t been great, and one of the ever-consistent tasks in my life is clearing clutter.

I’m also one who doesn’t put off tasks and I believe that when there’s a huge task, doing it a little at a time, with consistent effort, will finish it in no time.

We have clothes all over the house. The kids don’t live here anymore, but their closets are filled with clothes they wore in freaking grammar school.

I’ve made comments about getting those closets cleaned out, but I also realized that I have clothes that I won’t ever fit in again.

I decided to clean out my own stuff first, and this is where I ran into a dilemma.

I have journals.

Every year - from 1976 on - 1 book for each year - a paragraph written about every day that I’ve lived.

They’re tucked in the back of my closet and my initial thought was to gather them and bury them in the bottom of the trash bin.

I didn’t write in them each day with a grand plan to go back and read them.

I don’t have a lot of interest in reading what 15-year-old me thought about the girl I liked.

I’ve written what I’ve wanted without ever looking back.

My kids?

Would they want to read my thoughts someday?

Doubtful.

There isn’t much in there anyway.

I picked up the books and laughed at the fact that 1979 me had a plan to use the pages somewhere down the line.

I imagined my boys going through my things - somewhere down the line and thinking:

“He was a little crazy.”

Do I toss them?

Not today…

…for some reason I put them back in their place.

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