STUFF and MORE STUFF

Haven't really thought about space

Because growing up, I had none

Lived in a 1 bedroom apartment

with Grandma and her brother

He had the only bedroom

While I shared the sofa with Grandma

I didn't mind, didn't know better

Now that I am thinking about it

I find myself wondering

Where did she put my stuff

I must of had stuff, I was a kid!

I don't remember having a dresser.

We had a couch, a television set, a kitchen table

an end table and where was the rest of the stuff?

All in One big closet?

We lived there for 3 or 4 years

Then we moved to a bigger place

3 bedrooms

my first time having my own bedroom

so I thought...

But she wouldn't have it.

Got twin beds in the one bedroom

Her brother got the other one

She closed off the spare bedroom

Cutting cost down on heating.

Privacy? I never had it.

Stuff, I could not keep any.

Eventually, I moved out.

I had no clue and no stuff.

Then over the years

After 3 kids, stuff happened

Lots of stuff...

Then they moved out

Gave them their and some of my stuff

I finally got a big house

Filled it with lots of books and more stuff

Got 2 dogs to replace the kids

Now, there is just too much stuff

To many books, to many papers, clothes

Knick knacks, art supplies and whatever else.

Not a hoarder just a keeper.

I have a box full of Special Occasion Cards

Given to me or the kids, 30 years worth,

All my journals since I was 12,

Boxes of pictures and many photo albums,

My grandma's and my mother's albums

A drawer full of pens, pencils and whatever,

A couple boxes of various papers and odd things,

I hope to use in a special project, like collage or something.

I hang on to things just in case...

I always think I may need it one day.

I managed to give or throw away some of it,

but somehow, other stuff finds its way to my house.

Am I making up for all those years

Of no stuff?

I love my stuff, my books, my art supplies, the pieces of rope,

the jar of buttons, plastic bands, my journals, the pictures, my knitting kit,

and every single objects I have collected over the years.

So why is there a part of me that wants to get rid of it all?

Maybe there is a part in me that misses the lightness of having no stuff...