Parenting
My Life in Disarray
by Emma Larson
Aug. 29, 2015
It’s a thought-provoking question, but the answer is anything but straightforward. I’ve always been a saver—perhaps overly so. I hold onto everything, just in case. Just in case what? That I might have to reference my 1995 tax return? Or maybe I’ll need an electric bill from 1993? Proof of my eye exam from 1997?
When my daughter started shredding papers, the sound of the machine whirring was music to my ears. Just as I was getting lost in the rhythm, something caught my attention: a letter addressed to my partner. “Dear Mark, This letter is to inform you that your school loan has been settled.” Ah, I remembered Mark sitting at our kitchen table in our first apartment, writing that check shortly after we got married.
“Here,” I handed over another piece of paper to my daughter, who continued shredding with enthusiasm. Vvvrrr.
As I observed her, I wondered what other treasures lay hidden in that pile. Just a few minutes into her task, impatience got the best of me. “Wait!” I exclaimed.
Before me lay a scattered array of receipts: one for copies at a local store, another for faxes sent from the pharmacy, and a third for an answering machine. Who even makes copies outside the home anymore? Does anyone still send faxes?
I picked up a bill from a preschool, instantly transported back to the day I dropped my little one off, leaning down to receive a tight hug before she entered the classroom. Now, it’s I who has to reach up for a hug.
“Can I get back to this now?” my daughter asked, glancing at me.
“Soon.”
Then I spotted a check stub for $303, a prize from a radio call-in contest. The question? “What never stops growing?” The answer? “Your nose.”
Next, I found a pay stub from my first job at a trade publication in my late twenties. My boss had thought I’d like a particular reporter and arranged for me to cover a press conference. Little did I know, two years later, I would marry Mark. The job was grueling, low-paying, and set in a small office filled with secondhand smoke, but it ultimately led me to a wonderful husband.
To the side, a yellowed receipt from the vet for our beloved tiger-striped cat who passed away 12 years ago caught my eye. Next to it was a $20 receipt from the SPCA for a tiny black-and-white kitten we adopted soon after.
So many papers. What should I keep? A nagging thought crossed my mind: if I were to leave this world tomorrow, would anyone care about these papers? Would I want someone to sift through them to determine their significance?
That thought was disheartening, so I redirected my focus to the present. I reminded myself that as long as these papers remain, so do my memories. Each time I glance at one, time freezes, just like when I view a photograph and am whisked back to a moment in time. I wouldn’t dream of discarding my pictures, but papers? They need decluttering.
“Mom’s at it again!” my daughter called to Mark, eyeing the stacks of documents as she waited to earn her $5.
“Alright,” I replied, “you can have these.”
Vvvrrr.
Just as she slipped in another sheet, I snatched the remaining papers, cradling them against my chest to prevent any from falling, and walked away. Perhaps the next time I’m in the mood to declutter, these documents will find their way to the shredder. But for now, they—and the memories they hold—remain with me a little longer.
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Summary:
In this reflective narrative, Emma Larson shares her struggle with the overwhelming task of decluttering a lifetime of memories encapsulated in papers. As her daughter enthusiastically shreds documents, Emma is confronted by the poignant memories attached to each piece, ultimately leading her to realize the importance of holding onto these remnants of her past for just a little longer.