booandbunny

Sometimes my brain makes connections and by the time I try to set them down with any kind of permanence they are gone. Not this time. Fortunately, the connection happened while standing six steps from my keyboard.

I had a minor internal hissy fit last night while scouring the junk drawer/art cabinet for Scotch tape. The kids had used up everything I had making a construction paper Quidditch Field a few weeks back and, in hiding the new Scotch tape from them I had inadvertently hidden it from myself. (I do this a lot.) And I really needed the tape right then! In my head I was wondering why I keep some of this stuff and I was calculating just how I could chuck a lot of it one afternoon while they are all at school: stickers they have no interest in any more, mostly used up coloring books, about three pounds of snapped crayons with the labels peeled off. Grrr. “Why do we keep some of ThIs STUFF?” This thought escaped my head, hurdled my teeth and crossed my lips with a volume and cadence that told the kids: Step away from the mom … now! Eventually I found the tape and the homework was completed.

Then, just now, I was cleaning off my desk (another grumbly task!). I picked up the copy of “The Poetry of Robert Frost: All eleven of his books—complete” (edited by Edward Connery Lathem) that had been pulled from its shelf Friday. As I returned it to its rightful spot, where it’s been collecting dust for many, mAnY, MANY years, I realized how many times I have packed this book, moved this book, dusted this book, paged through this book. "Why do I we have some of this stuff?" The thought whisped through my head and I had an answer this time.

I’m not certain my brother knew the powerful poetic origin of the cliche he had just used while talking about some of the choices he’s facing. It felt so good when I went right to this book, right to the page, and was able to e-mail it to him, hoping it would offer him the same warmth it’s brought so many before him.

I'm still going to toss a huge amount of the kids' old art supplies. But not all the stuff that sits on my shelves, in my cabinets, in the backs of drawers, has lost its usefulness.