Art imitating life: Shirley Hughes picture book, 12/27

I went out yesterday for the first time since the snow storms subsided. I never was able to do the last of my Christmas shopping for the kids because I was pretty much snowbound for almost a week and a half. I was finally able to drive my car off the hill and down the alley, and for me, that was truly liberating. Overall I didn't suffer much during that storm period. I had a friend and her daughter stay with me while their power was out. I had a guest for Christmas. Everything I needed was close by, within walking distance, or already stored away in my home. I never felt trapped, just inconvenienced for a little awhile.

I suppose I could look at life my life like that, too. I have been in a state where I was temporarily inconvenienced. Snowed in by my own mind. Unfortunately that chilling effect spilled out and over into my life and into the lives of others around me. But it was defining, helped me understand my strengths and what I had to work on in order to dig myself out. It helped me to see who and what was important, and now, years later, who and what I had to let go of in order to move on, get back into the sunshine of life.

I found a book yesterday, one that I will be passing along to the kids in Boise. It's a picture book by Shirley Hughes, a British illustrator and children's writer. Stories by Firelight. One of the tales revolves around the burning of a Christmas tree, as well as burning off old letters and such that the elderly grandfather felt was time to let go of. His words in the story, about how those precious memories were in his heart and his mind and that the papers and train tickets and letters and such were incidental, struck a chord in me. I felt the same. That it was time to unload, let go, burn away the dross and things that no longer were worthy of holding onto.

So, to that end, I brought down the satchel, the one that I've been going through and sharing here this last month. I put away our photos and such about the same time I started writing here, most certainly and completely after I saw you on the street back in November. It was time, then, to stow it all away, but now, even more so, it's time to unpack it, and let the anchor slip away.

An inventory of such things is important. I picked up that bag and had to wonder what was in it that was so heavy. What was so important to me that I wanted to carry around such weight? I know that you stopped holding onto old stuff ages ago. I know for certain because I found things in the second hand store last summer. That should have been enough for me to do the same. And now I will. But for the sake of lists, let me put down what I have in that bag, should you ever stumble across this.

Let's see..

..one pewter key chain fob. Oh, cheesecake madness, and boundless familiarity of handing over to you my housekeys.
..one Rubix cube. You turned that one over in your head many times. Apparently you figured it out.
..an expensively framed print of a Kingfisher, done up for your last day at the Port Orchard Branch. Fly away to Goodwill, will you, please?
..an interesting late 40's, early 50's print of a woman looking towards the mess of her kitchen, and the man, apres dinner, sitting off in the living room in the comfort of his easy chair. Remind you of anybody you know? Has The Detective gone back to his old ways now that he's comfortable and has you locked down again? I can't imagine why not.
..a kingfisher bookmark you made for me from a coffee table book I pointed out to you. No more marked books for you, buster.
..a small frame that held that curry tasting photo. No mas, gracias.
..one tropical shirt, one that has seen better days. Last starred in that photo took on that return trip from WALE in the mountains before the snow storm hit. I feel cold just looking at it.
..4 Calcopo titles: Love in the Time of Cholera, Five Quarters of the Orange (oh, the finish to that one..opera on the couch!), Corelli's Mandolin ("they were lovers in the old fashioned sense..") and The Time Traveler's Wife (more on that one in the upcoming, final missive).
..one Golden Chef menu, long outdated.
..one package of caps for a capgun. Gosh, Holly, that little pal of mine.
..one black satin ribbon the was wrapped around a box of green tea. August 27th, 2005. Black ribbon, how fitting.
..one framed print of two pileated woodpeckers. That whole birding thing changed my life for the better, thank you, but the print has to go.
..one glow in the dark gizmo of two hands held in a prayer mode ("I pray for you every day"). Thanks, but no thanks, keep your prayers to yourself.
..one tape copied from a tape I made for that Captain Nemo's trunk back in June (referenced in Accumulate Man). I'll play it only because I liked the music before anything else.
..another small picture frame, this one housing a photo shard of us kissing in the kitchen on your birthday (I can tell from the flowers. Red carnations.)
..a tape of La Boheme highlights. Pity you couldn't go. I know, I know, how would you have explained that?
..one Gustav Klimt calendar from 2006. The year started out great, and ended with me in the arms of my children back in that cold old little house of mine on New Year's Eve. But that calendar is marked with days that I would rather forget, so it has to go.
..your binder from the WALE conference filled with all my old letters and notes to you.
..one Pendelton scarf box filled with all your remaining letters and notes to me.
..one pewter "coffee lover" pin that I found at Goodwill but never gave you ("how would I explain that?") You kick started that whole coffee thing with me again. I was happy drinking green tea before. Maybe it'll be my New Year's thing. Green tea. Lord knows I could use it again.)
..one Rite Aid drop off photo envelope filled with photo negatives. Lots of pictures of my kids on those negatives, all those trips to Boise back in '05 and '06. Won't unload those anytime soon.
..one manila envelope used for the United Way campaign with your handwriting, which is filled with pieces of this and that and the other.
..one manila envelope filled with photo shards, an ASD Port Orchard photo and black and white copies of photos from the first staff day you attended. You got my attention that day. Somehow it was already going someplace even back then, wasn't it?

Where most of this stuff will go remains to be seen. The books, well, I'll pass them along to the Friends. The prints can go to Goodwill. The picture frames I can use again. The shirt is about too small anymore and can go away, too. The photos I can burn if only because, well, I still have the negatives. Our words are the only thing I will store away for awhile longer. They don't quite have the same impact as they used to, but later on, like that character in the Shirley Hughes story, I'll find the right place and the right time to burn them, too.

Let's put in on the calendar, shall we? August 27. Sumner. Loyalty Park. It's a date.

Meanwhile, let's get out and about and go play in that sunshine. The snows have melted from the streets and my heart as well. Love, if not some semblance of a future springtime, is in the air once again.

Yours WHMB

PS..and to think this never happened and that everything is finding it's way not only into our book but into a very safe and secure box, instead (10/09)