TREASURES

The Husband has been traveling around the world for a good many years, doing some very important work. He’s a certifiable globetrotter. People always ask me—don’t you go on any of these trips? Well, to be quite frank, I have accompanied him a handful of times. But, up until last year, I still had kids at home to look out for. And he pops in and out of some of these countries so quickly there really would be no point for me to tag along. All I’d see would be airplanes and hotel rooms. His traveling came to a screeching halt this last year; the derailed economy has prevented corporations from spending the money.

He’s a photographer and has shot some amazing photos during his trips. And…the best part, he would always bring me presents. The Husband has an eye for items that can’t be found down at the mall. We have a vast collection of masks, textiles, and the list goes on and on. Finally, I had to tell him. No more. Don’t bring any more.

Since we’ve moved to a smaller house, the garage remains chock full of treasures. Plastic tubs sit unpacked. Masks are still wrapped in towels and blankets. For two reasons. Reason number one: I don’t have room for everything. Reason number two: I just don’t have the heart to unpack all that stuff because we’re probably not going to stay in this house all that long, a year—maybe two. This lack of motivation to alter my surroundings is unqualifiedly uncharacteristic. I don’t want to paint. I don’t want to decorate. I don’t have it in me. Why unpack all that stuff, if I’m just going to pack it up again? We won’t want to sell anything yet. Not until we decide where we are going to go to stay for a significant amount of time. Our lives have changed immeasurably in such a short period of time.

I gave birth to my first son at the rip old age of nineteen. I’m fifty-four. I told my husband last night: yesterday afternoon, the strangest feeling came over me. I felt as if I’d forgotten the kids somewhere, that I’d neglected my motherly duties somehow. They’re all adults, off in their own little worlds, but I suddenly felt as if I’d lost them. And, I have in a way. Those kids are gone, replaced with capable adults in charge of their own lives. Just what we intended to happen, right? All these long years, my life has been extremely complicated, jammed full with five kids, and me tearing around like a chicken with her fool head chopped off, tending to their needs and wants and schooling and socializing. Our house was a den of constant activity at all times. Plus, much of the time I was working. Add that into the mix.

Now, The Husband and I work at home. Life is simple. I’m not insinuating that I’m one of those empty nesters, the kind of woman that finds herself lost without her children to define just who she is. In fact, neither my children, nor my husband, have ever been my sole reason for being. I don’t mind admitting, I’m enjoying my newfound freedom, this easy breezy lifestyle. But…I recognize that there's an adjustment to be made, deep in the recesses of my being. I am Mom, I’ll always be Mom, but my role has diminished. I am liberated. But, I need time to know I am.

When I think about it, (and that’s what I’m doing here, thinking out loud), no bloody wonder I don’t want to unpack. We are in the process of undergoing a huge adjustment period. We are in a limbo of sorts. Change is the only constant, after all.

I’ve posted a photo of the garage, (this picture doesn’t convey how much stuff is crammed in there.) And, another of the living room, (See those white walls? How boring!) That’s me taking trying to capture a beautiful ceramic of a woman on an elephant. The Husband bought her in a little shop by a lake, in Beijing, China. Incredible, he wrapped her in a sweater and packed her in his suitcase and she arrived here in the U.S. in perfect condition.

Then, there’s the church. It’s handmade, constructed of clay. This piece is from Lima, Peru, and the shop owner packaged it up and promised The Husband it would arrive in “perfect condition”. It didn’t. It was literally smashed to smithereens. Our entire family marveled as The Husband sat at the kitchen table, hot glue gun in hand, for hours upon hours, miraculously reassembling all the pieces. Amazing! I tell everyone that the little church was damaged in an earthquake. I have a story about the little village. I decorate the church for Christmas, with strings of tiny lights, and an itty-bitty wreath. I even place tiny presents in the hands of the villagers, and at their feet. I love the church, ever more special because he patched it up so carefully.

The tapestry is from New Delhi, India. The Husband found it for sale in an outdoor market. It’s very old. We hung it in the dining room.

What treasures have you accumulated? Or, are you a minimalist?







All Rights Reserved. © 2009 by Elizabeth Bradley.