I have not moved too many times in my life and consequently, have not been very diligent about discarding possessions from my past. I am not referring to random purchases that have made their way into my household through the years, but true relics from my childhood that I carefully packed up oh so long ago and have been storing for the past 30 years.
All that ended last night, for the most part, anyway.
New owners will begin moving into this house in just two weeks. Most of the rooms are empty because I have been packing and moving my belongings for a good while now. Besides my cleaning supplies, the only items remaining are things with which I have little connection. Many of these were boxed up in my attic, and last night I pulled down the ladder and ventured into that rarely traveled territory, the dust-covered museum of relics from my distant past.
I have literally dozens of dolls, most of them merely souvenirs from the vacations of various aunts and uncles. But some were my own dolls. I remember selecting their clothes, and lovingly wrapping them in the shoe boxes where I found them last night. I threw most of them away but there are 7 still remaining, and I stubbornly believe that some collector somewhere might like to have them. I don’t consider the dolls to be valuable, I just consider them rare.
I am no longer interested in storing them, but I do hope to find a home for these 7 dolls that is not in a landfill.