The Most Important Things in Life… Aren’t Things

As I was walking out of a small restaurant in Delaware I noticed this tiny little plaque seated on the edge of a table and stopped to take a picture. That afternoon a group of college friends and I piled into my little Toyota and drove three hours to visit a friend who is suffering from a terminal disease.

It was one of those days you know you’ll never forget. The weather was beautiful and the car ride was smooth and calm with no traffic and great conversation. Our friend was thrilled to see us and we ate lots of great food and enjoyed each others company. As I stepped out the door I took a deep breath to capture the moment. In that moment I looked to my right and noticed the tiny plaque.

Inherently I know that it’s the memories and moments in our lives that really matter. I know that objects and things aren’t important and I’ve done my best to minimize the amount of clutter in my life. I focus on my relationships, I count my blessings and I try my best not harbor on the negative. Although I will certainly admit that some days and weeks are certainly better than others.

So when my mom called today to tell me she was giving away my childhood bedroom set I was surprised by own emotional outburst; I broke into tears. My brother asked for the set for his daughter, my four year old niece, and my mother obliged.

I’m sure my mom was not prepared for my tears. She told me she would give me the bedroom set, that she would buy a different one for my niece, but I told her that I don’t have an immediate need for it and that I want my niece to get as much enjoyment out of it as I did.

I meant what I said. I don’t have children yet and when I do have children there’s no way of knowing whether or not I’ll have a little girl, so I told my mom my brother was welcome to take it. I don’t want the set to sit idle, but I would be lying if I said my heart didn’t break into a million little pieces at the thought of my mom giving it away.

I have so many fond memories of my parents tucking me into bed at night. I had a raised canopy bed and for most of my young childhood my dad would toss me gently onto my mattress and then tuck me tight under the covers. I am a true daddy’s girl and I was so sad when I got too big for my dad to pick up and toss into bed.

I was surprised by the rush of emotions that came from my mother’s phone call. After all this is just a large piece of wood. But that wood has so many fond memories associated with it and I guess I was just sad to let them all go.