Spring cleaning black holes in the attic

Spring cleaning descended over our house with vengeance.
It began when the Pennsylvania branch of the family wanted the old fashion, straight-back, school chairs we had planned to strip and refinish – someday. Someday came and went for us. The younger family needed them, so my husband ascended the ladder to the attic, hoisted down 10 chairs, sighed at the task ahead and began the tedious process of refinishing chairs.
That finished, he decided to increase the insulation and lighting of the entire attic. Everything stored up there the past 24 years, came down the ladder: My daughter’s dolls, the old Atari with 20 or so game cartridges and college text books. They guys have homes now, it’s time their books moved in with them. And, to be fair, it’s also time hubby and I deleted a few of our college text books.
At one time the space over the garage served as the children’s club house. Years have passed since I listened to muffled sounds of children creating their own world. The insulation project dictated that those memories be dissembled. Our man of the hour hauled down National Geographic pictures, broken toys, odd gadgets, blankets and notebooks and the who-knows-where-that-came-from car seat which the boys used to furnish their club house.
From some time warp or black hole, the junk mover produced one last box of pint-sized canning jars from my 10 years of canning. It’s been a couple dozen years since I hung up my apron at the home cannery and refused to touch anything related to it. I decided to keep the cans – I might try my hand at jam again sometime – the easy kind where someone else picks the berries and cleans them.
The visiting grandchildren rejoiced when they climbed up to help Grandpa and found a baby stroller we had set aside for visiting grandchildren. Too big ride it, they claimed it for their dollies and teddy bears – at least until my daughter visits with her expected child and needs it for an afternoon.
The man of the house spent several hours sorting through a box of HO scale train cars and track. He purchased the set and accessories for his young sons, showed them how to use it. Then we moved and no one has not touched it the entire time we have been in Arkansas. I insisted that he call up and ask the Indiana son if he wanted it.
“I don’t know where I’ll put it, but I want my train,” the middle-aged son assured us.
For sentimental reasons, I welcomed the re-discovery of the baby clothes worn by each of our children – but how did I ever end up with a grandchild’s first Halloween costume? Attics hold many secrets.
But ours , now empty, awaits the few things we will return to storage.
It won’t be much. This year’s spring cleaning also included emptying every cupboard, drawer, closet, bookshelf and cubby hole in the house. My husband’s industrial manuals left the house along with books we have not read and clothes we have not worn – except for the suitcase full of practically new uniforms he discovered. He insists he will lose the weight and wear them. If he does, he will have work clothes for at least another half a century.
Sorting books took longer, I couldn’t resist reading favorite chapters and pages from old favorites. The rest I glanced at, failed to remember why I had ever purchased them and tossed them into the donation pile.
We cleaned out, sorted through and hauled off so much, the house echoes with emptiness.
That’s okay, a summer of yard sales awaits and now that I have plenty of space again, I can buy anything I want.


Posted

in

by

Tags: