There Is A Time

I don’t think that I’m alone in this.  Parting with clothes is not easy to do for me.  Obviously neither is it a manageable task for my oldest daughter!

I don’t like to separate from the time that something fit me, looked fine on me or furnished me with convenience or fashion.  I don’t like to say good-bye, even to clothes.  I think you are getting the idea, after all I’m blogging about this “good bye” topic after all!

This daughter leaves on Thursday and we still haven’t packed a single garment.  More importantly we haven’t recycled or discarded one garment either!

Thinking of this in a dream last night (yes, I dreamed about clothes) I did realize that her lime green bathing suit and gaudy striped sun dress from childhood are gone.  They’ve disappeared, so I guess we were able to let go.  This is a good aspiration, as I means that clothes have actually moved out of this house!

When the clothes are gone then time has actually moved forward.  If no one will wear them in the absence of a mannequin, they are just occupying space.

Here we are at time and space again!

Clothes are great reminders of moments in time.

When my mother died and I had to clean out her closets. It was the clothes (and the jewelry) that brought me back to being with her.  These things allowed me to be in her presence.  I’ve kept some pins, necklaces and even sweaters (that don’t really fit me) so that I can be with her again.

I think I’ll keep something.  Maybe my daughter’s prom dress to remind me of the day we went to get her make-up done at the counter at a local department store and I realized she really is a woman.  Maybe her first coaching shirt to remind me of the day I saw her strength and bossiness as a gift and not a problem!  Maybe I’ll keep a tailored blouse to remind me that she isn’t really very different than me and that sometimes looking the “part” is what we all do, despite our objection to being comparable to others.

Either way, clothes will be packed, rejected and reclaimed this week.  Clothes that oddly enough will remain in my dreams.

“The precision of naming takes away from the uniqueness of seeing.”
– Pierre Bonnard

Memories for me are very visual.  I am a visual learner and thinker. I think in images and pictures.  My children are both listeners.  I’m certain their memories are in the form of music, voices and sound.  My mind conjures up a collage of visions and I think their minds must resonate with quite a din.

That being said, there are places that I do remember.  Places that have been etched in my mind.

As I think about my children, they are youthful and smiling.  We know well this was not the case; especially in the case of my oldest daughter!  But I am avoiding the other images for now.

I remember places, sun shining, wind blowing, trees swaying, birds flying, clouds moving; places where my children walked, ran, moved, swam and danced.

Now these places are snapshots in my memories.  The visions are actually more like a video than a portrait.  I do see them moving; I really do!

I’ve chosen a visual gift for my departing daughter.  Four photos that I have had framed will be given to her for the walls of her small apartment at graduate school.  They are the photos included here in this post.

One, of the gazebo in our hometown, to capture the innocent vision I have of her skipping to the library, right past the gazebo, with a book in hand, as I pushed the stroller behind her with her younger sibling singing to the birds and humming to the beat of the stroller wheels, as they rolled over the humps in the sidewalk.  One, of the view from our favorite spot in Maine, to forever paint a portrait of her trying to balance on the rocks and keep up with our youngest and then deciding she might just head back to the car, far away from the seagulls that were swooping overhead.  One, of trees in the Pocono landscape, to shade in almost a mirage of people, pets and pizzas that have shifted through this place, while she laughed and giggled.  One, of the Cloisters at her beloved college, to expose the moment when in a damp, white dress, on a rainy graduation day, she popped a bottle of champagne and toasted to tomorrow and said good-bye to her childhood.

I think in pictures.  I am gifting visions.  I hope that they create conversations, while evoking memories, that remove covers and open up chances to reminisce.  I hope they create a racket of chatter.  May the sounds of her past be heard in and through this facade.

Another hope from this mom at this time.