Letting go of a light from the past

Originally published in September 2005

Letting go of a light from the past

In previous columns, I think I’ve established that I am a pack rat. I collect books, still have some of my childhood toys, and pretty much have held on to anything I’ve written since about the seventh grade. I’ve also got a streak of thriftiness, often holding on to things I think I may have a use for some day.

My closets and cupboards are neat and organized, but chaos can be found on the dining room table, bathroom counter top, and mostly in my room.
My room is always a work in progress. I’ve got file boxes piled on file boxes, and many projects going at once. It’s not only where I sleep, but also where I have my computer, exercise bike, a reading chair, the television and my birthday gift to me, an X-Box.
I’m working to conquer the clutter and may soon burn out the motor in my shredder as I get rid of old bank records and things on file that I don’t need anymore.
Countless books have been written on the subject of clutter, and I own about two or three. There are believed to be many psychological reasons for clutter, ranging from it being a manifestation of depression or anxiety, or as a symptom of Attention-Deficit Disorder or Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Some research suggests that people use clutter as a way to avoid dealing with other people. We also develop an emotional attachment to things.
I’ve always had a good memory. I can vividly recall the home I lived in from kindergarten to fourth grade, remembering details that surprise my parents.
I think my house may be as cluttered as my memory is. Take a walk through my home with me, and I can fill you in on the history of things, from where I got them, how long I’ve had them and even who I was with.
My fiend of a cat, Zoopie, took the decision out of my hands on what to do with an one item I’ve had for about 20 years.
When I was about 10 or 11, I bought a night light for my room. Yes, that seems a bit old to have a night light, but it was a porcelain-like figure of a woman leaning against a full grown unicorn, with a baby unicorn frolicking at her feet. Being the horse-crazy girl that I was, I loved it and had to have it.
The night light was purchased at a jewelry store in the Mesa Mall in Grand Junction, Colo. My family and I were visiting our friends, the Niemalas that day. Their daughter, Dana, is between my sister and me in age and the three of us were as thick as thieves. I saw the light in an ad in the newspaper and we made a trip to the mall. I know that Dana’s mother, Janet, was with us that day. It’s a memory made poignant since that lovely woman passed away several years ago.
I remember the store, and though the mall has grown and changed since then, I bet I could still lead you to the corner where it stood, where the main hall intersected one that went to a sporting goods store on one end and Mervyn’s at the other. I also purchased a pen that had a digital watch that is long since gone.
Over the years, the night light stood on a dresser in my room, making the move from Colorado to Michigan. The baby unicorn’s horn broke off and was glued back on. The light was packed away for a few years while I was in college. When I moved into my own home, it returned to its place on my dresser. I’d reclaimed my bedroom set from my parents that Mom had purchased from a co-worker when I was a teen. The dresser had a vanity mirror surrounded by knick knack shelves.
When I moved in 2003, I got rid of that bedroom set. Most things displayed on the shelves have a new home, but I didn’t have a free outlet plug for the night light.
The light was left in a box in the basement. Zoopiecat, on a mission to explore and get into places she doesn’t belong, knocked that box down last week.
The night light fell out and hit the floor, shattering the head of the big unicorn into fragments too tiny to find.
Perhaps if I had been able to let go of the night light two years ago, it would now be watching over some other horse-crazy little girl at night while she dreams.
Instead, it has been sitting on my kitchen counter for the last week. I need to toss it in the trash.
And now that I have remembered it here, I can.