Then there are the things I feel mostly detatched from:
I got this bike four years ago for my birthday. It cost more than any other birthday present I had ever bought myself. I felt entitled. I had a desire to get back to that time in my twenties when I rode my bike all over the place. But this bike was just too tall for me. And the weather in Northern California was just too unpredictable. And the roads were just too bumpy and unsafe. And I was just too busy to ride it. All excuses, but true.
So the bike sat in the garage for a year, then in the office bathroom for another year, then in a storage shed for a year, then to the east coast and back to the west coast in a travel trailer. And now it has been for sale for over a month. Maybe my price is too high because I feel guilty and silly for buying it in the first place. I know it’s worth $250. It is in pristine condition, only one scratch. It’s perfect for the right, tall, person.
And, even though I’m not attached to this bike any more, it will be very hard for me to come down on the price or just donate it with all the art supplies and beanie babies. Guilt is a strong emotion in my world.
Well, at least some books. I couldn’t believe all the classic literature I had read when I found this box. I held onto them just in case I ever taught English. It looks like that won’t happen now. I’ve grown past that to something less defined.
What I remember about my career as an undergraduate student is understanding about half of what I read, and never wanting to speak out in class because of my insecurity. Still, I left Virginia Wesleyan with a sense of accomplishment and a real love of good writing. Somewhere along the way I realized that I had moved on from Shakespeare and Faulkner. I think these particular books have done their job with me. On the other hand, I will not sell my yoga books, or my meditation books or my expressive arts books. They are still forming a new foundation under my feet.
I guess the college counselor was right. A major in English can take you just about anywhere!
We spent a lot of time and money collecting this kind of stuff. Every year we went to the half off sales at JoAnn’s and before we knew it we could have opened a holiday store of our own. It started when the kids were growing up. It continued with our program for people with disabilities. The last time we really celebrated Christmas with all our decorations was for our clients. It was very satisfying to see them walk in and get excited about simple things like putting candy canes on the Christmas tree. We sold the bulk of this stuff to a woman whose husband is going through cancer treatment. She loves, loves, loves Christmas. It felt appropriate. But there are a few items left.
Theoretically, we should just donate it all and walk away, and I’m fine with that. But my husband, Sam, is practically an incarnation of Santa Claus. He loves Christmas, not so much the gifts and the shopping, but the spirit of the season. He is a very giving person, loves to see people enjoy themselves, plus, he even smiles like Santa. Kids love him, unconditionally. So, selling this stuff might mean letting go of that part of him that makes him special. I might be getting more attached the longer it sits there, waiting…. I’ll let him decide.
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