By Barbara Scott
Staff Writer
My children call me a “hoarder” (with a smile of course) but non-the less they believe that I never throw much of anything away. I admit that I’m guilty of delaying the disposal of various items but I usually get around to doing so, in my own good time — and frame of mind.
What truly amazes my clan of three is that I have, in spite of their concern, continued to hold on to most of the wonderful Mother’s Day gifts (and Christmas and Easter and so on) they created as small children, not to mention the cards/gifts that they have carefully selected as they have grown into adulthood.
“Mom — really, why do you keep these things,” they ask, as they pick something up off a shelf or discover something in the midst of helping me sort things out for a yard sale, or when they eye a craft that hangs from a Christmas tree branch.
My reply is always the same, “those are special things, they mean a lot to me — I’m not throwing them out.” Whether it’s the vases designed from jelly jars covered with popsicle sticks, the ornament that is a sled (again crafted from the ever useful popsicle sticks) decorated with bits of material and sequins with a first name and date carefully printed on the underside or perhaps the ornaments that were made out of small dried apples that were artfully crafted complete with tiny wire-rimmed glasses, a cotton ball for hair decorated with a bow (resembling the loving face of an elderly lady) — I have kept them all — the dried apple faces are now at least 25 and 30 years old respectively and still grace special spots on our Christmas tree.
I have boxes and drawers filled with pictures drawn by small hands and very creative minds. Some of those pictures weren’t drawn at nursery school or elementary school; they were done at our kitchen table, probably on a rainy afternoon, each bearing the coveted (and often large) letters XOXOXO, while others displayed large printed letters of their names.
I have a ceramic cat that continues to sit on my windowsill, the result of a Mother’s Day shopping trip with their father, that my kids decided upon and presented to me that special morning, their eyes dancing with anticipation as I unwrapped it.
If I could only explain to my now grown children the emotions that are attached to these “things” that I refuse to discard. It’s the memories that go with these gifts, a timeline if you will, following them from birth to today— memories that tug hard on my heartstrings — aside from my children themselves. Memories that are the best treasures of all.
I can still recall some of the gifts I gave to my own Mom as a child for Mother’s Day and I clearly remember the excitement of coming home after school on that Friday before her special day and in great conspiracy with my father, would hide the styro-foam cup that held the sprout of a flower that I had planted at school.
Within the piles and boxes of “things” I have special Mother’s Day cards given to me by my mother as well. Of all the things she gave to me as her child, lessons on growing into an honest, responsible person, a good student, a compassionate adult — it was her love and respect that was truly a gift, one which I have worked to duplicate and pass on to my own children.
Following her death I realized that I wasn’t the only “hoarder” in our family, when going through her personal things, a treasure trove of greeting cards, handmade gifts and pictures given to her by her four children, were discovered, most well over 40-50 years old, tucked away like memories for safe keeping.
Although she passed away in the month of February, many weeks before May, Mom managed, in her unselfish way to give me one last Mother’s Day gift. Battling the frustrating and heart-breaking disease of Alzheimer’s, through all of her sporadic confusion, she always recognized me and knew my name. Mom may have not been able to remember that I had been there only a few hours before, but every time I entered her room she knew — even early on during those very last heart-wrenching days — a gift I will always be grateful for, among all the many others.
So while I patiently smile and nod when my kids good-naturedly point out certain things that are “obviously of no use,” I will continue to protect those treasures just as I will always protect the many wonderful memories that are attached to my heartstrings. The heartstrings of a mother.
Happy Mother’s Day.
