Inclement weather over the past days has prompted me to do some extensive, in fact overdue, house cleaning. This means emptying closets, desk drawers, storage bins, etc. seeing what should be retained or discarded. Sorting said items into piles becomes more difficult the further one delves into what eventually becomes a flood of memories.

Even the most mundane of items carries you back to a happy time; a wedding, a vacation, a trip to a family reunion, meeting an old friend after many years and so many others. Why did I save that cocktail napkin from a forgotten restaurant, that book of poetry, a stuffed Walrus, party favors? Then they trigger something in your mind and the memories come flooding back.

Not all are happy ones, funerals, failed relationships, friends left behind; it’s a mystery why we save those death announcements, love letters and concert ticket stubs but save them we do. It’s another peculiarity of the human mind to seek remnants of misery as well as happiness. Possibly some innate sense of balance that in itself is a part of life.

Souvenirs are sure fire memory joggers; paperweights,statuettes, a vial of beach sand, caps, jackets and t-shirts emblazoned with logos of resorts, restaurants, attractions, museums…how long ago did I visit there anyway? Album after album of pictures, frozen moments in time, friends and relatives smiling in perpetuity, even yourself, forever young.

Finally, everything’s sorted out (or so you think). The piles of things to be discarded or donated to charity shrinks steadily as one by one more items have meaning. Then you decide to be ruthless and begin filling trash bags. You can’t possibly keep all these things that are crowding you out of house and home. Sacks are left for the trash collectors, others taken to charity donation sites and then you are finished.Your closets, desk and dresser drawers, even your cars glove compartment are neat and organized. What a feeling of accomplishment.

If only you could organize the cluttered closets in your mind this easily; but we cannot, and more to the point don’t wish to. Some clutter is good for the soul, not to mention story plots. Speaking of, I just thought of one and must jot it down. Ciao.