The Excavator

My stepson has been engaged for two days now excavating the basement. The basement, which has fallen prey to capturing everything and everything, we have collected over the past seven years.  There are so many things residing there between books and retired furniture and electronics and my ego-laden trophies from my tenure at my last avocation.

Needless to say he has the ability to remove some of the nostalgia that I would cling to had I been in charge of this project. It’s almost as if he employs a logic I cannot and I thank him for that and to be able to be rid of things we haven’t touched in years.  When I look at some of the items in this trove of individual memories some are hold onto able and most others he has launched to the end of the driveway where treasure seekers or the men that collect refuse have done what they do. 

I am delighted to lighten the load that will still be monumental when we retire from this museum that my wife designed and built with the skill of her artistry and devotion.

Thank you son and I am glad I stayed out of it because I would only have gummed up the works by stopping and staring at things that no longer can occupy space in my head or space in our basement.