basement

K took a couple of days off- a luxury we are not yet accustomed to, and we are spending our time together -- cleaning out the basement. Fascinating, I know.

It would appear that I have kept every sheet of paper my children ever touched - four boxes full. Big boxes. I have been through all of them and had an emotional breakdown. They have been distilled into one box.

But then I found the box of baby shoes.

I had sorted through the baby clothes yesterday --keeping handmade items and things I would consider relics. I also kept some things that would only have meaning to me. Someday I would like to make a little quilt of patches of the things that I remember...tiny hawaiian shirts, teeny boxer shorts. I have a list in my head of projects like this that may or may not ever be done.

When I found the baby shoes, I felt like I could just run them upstairs and see if they fit anyone. It was a strange disassociated feeling to think we are done with them. (My past and present tense are all mixed up here -- as they are in my head.) Why won't these boots fit Youngest?

I have decided to take a break and straighten up the house now. Fortunately K needs to go through ever sheet of paper that he ever touched.