DaBabs

Return to Sender

After many weeks in storage, the things I inherited from Mom and Dad finally arrived at our house. There were some big boxes, and of course, one huge crate that held the Grandfather clock. I started to go through some of the items and got sad all over again. It doesn't help that everything smells like their house. Looks like their house. Yet it's in MY house now and it doesn't feel like I'm playing dress up with grown up things anymore now that I have THEIR stuff too.

All these boxes reminded me of the phrase return to sender. It actually kind of reminded me of a break-up. There's my high school photo. The Polish glasses I gave Mom one year for Christmas. The pictures of Rachel. The Polish pottery she lovingly collected for years.

Except it's not a break up I asked for. And it's not a break up they asked for.

I guess if you could think deeply about it, it is sort of a break up. A break up from being a kid. I remember admitting at my bridal or baby shower, can't remember which one, that while I was X age, I still felt like I was 9 years old inside. Mom laughed and laughed - she said I couldn't stay 9 forever.

You're right, Mom. I guess I can't.

posted by DaBabs @ 7:56 PM