By the time you read this, my wife Wanda and I will have returned from a brief mini-vacation to Hickory, N.C., where I lived for 25 years before moving to Florida in 2010.
Before I left, I rented a storage locker, which I have paid for monthly the past 12 years, but I’ll be doggone if I can remember much of what is stored, other than the following appliances: refrigerator (that my youngest daughter wants because hers is starting to break down; a dishwasher; a wall stove; a countertop range and a microwave. There’s also bedroom furniture.
I’m not sure whether a portable radiator is still there or if my youngest daughter took it for use in her home. If she hasn’t, she can have it. I stayed at her home one winter and that portable radiator sure would have been appreciated.
My oldest daughter cannot recall what, if anything of hers, is in that storage shed.
The purpose of the trip is to determine what to bring back and what to let my daughters have if they want, and dispose of the rest, as the decision has been made to no longer store anything.
That’s because Wanda and I have now reached that stage in our lives where we no longer want possessions that haven’t been used since who can remember when. Here in Florida we are swimming in that stuff — actually, drowning is a more accurate description.
Both of us need to go through our clothes closets. We have drinkware gathering dust. Before we married, I collected cast iron and amber glass cookware. I haven’t used most of those since I moved to Florida, especially not the glass cookware. There are plates, several incomplete sets of utensils and an assortment of kitchen items used once or twice and never again.
The point of all this is how and why and what we accumulate; more so, why we hold on to that we no longer need. It’s the same with life in general, I suppose. What mattered when we were 20 are rendered insignificant when we are in our 60s and 70s. I guess that’s because life mellows us.