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I was doing really well this morning, having gone to my storage place bright and early while it was still cool. My “letting go of books” mood of yesterday had carried over, and I found myself purging English lit texts that I had planned to keep for ever. I was on a roll…boxes and boxes of classic novels and cheap thrill reads were headed to the yard sale pile.

Then I opened an unlabeled box that looked like it was going to be books, but was actually random papers, photos, and scribbles from Mom. I should have just put the lid back on and dealt with it later, but like a moth to a flame I was drawn to a journal I had given her. I flipped it open and started to read, only to be hit with such an incredible wave of grief that it literally knocked me to my knees sobbing. I quite often get teary-eyed reading little notes I find tucked into books or dresser drawers, but they are usually happy tears. This was just flat-out “I want my Mama” wailing, of the sort that I thought I had gotten past, five years later.

Of course, sitting and sobbing wasn’t getting the job done, so eventually I shook myself off, wiped my face, and dug into another box. And I’m happy to report that between the book boxes and the little dressing table that used to be in Georgia’s room, I freed up quite a bit of space in my storage room. Which is a good thing, because the Chinese lacquer chest no longer fits her decorating scheme, so into storage it must go.

Here we are having our typically good time hanging out together with our doll-playing friends.

A happy moment at our doll club birthday party.

A happy moment at our doll club birthday party.

All dressed up for a Victorian garden party.

All dressed up for a Victorian garden party.

Up until today I was worried that we wouldn’t have enough stuff for a good sale, but all afternoon parishioners showed up with stuff and more stuff. I’m relaxed now, and sure that we will have a successful day. Drop by and see us if you are in the neighborhood!

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