What we leave behind

Recently my mother moved from her home (my childhood home) of 40+ years into my grandfathers house. My current abode became the dumping grounds for all the sentimental memorabilia as well as the spare can opener and plastic bag holder that she chose not to take over to the new digs. I now am the proud owner of all the cards and letters that I wrote to her and my father over the last 30 years. All my baby stuff, clay pottery, artwork, schoolwork from elementary school and general unusable stuffs (20 year old coasters, a vase that I gave her for her birthday back in 1977) have been passed on to me. Don't get me wrong... I would never tell my mother that I felt somewhat slighted that she didn't want to keep any of this stuff any longer... but I have so little room for my own things that taking on these things really puts a strain on my storage area! It's not like I can throw any of these things away... after all, she kept them for so many years it would be like a slap in the face to just dispose of them... The worst part of all of this is that this stuff is just all of MY past. Nothing of my father or grandparents things. That stuff I would never even dream of parting with. My mother wasn't a pack rat but she did grow up in the depression era so there were drawers full of folded up used tinfoil, 35 empty coffee cans, 26 empty butter tubs w/lids, assorted sizes of construction paper, balls of twine in different lenths, well you get the picture. I was reading a post over at Bag Blog that got me thinking about what it might be like for my daughter in another 50 years when she has to go through whatever I've left behind. Will she realize that the black and white picture of Steve McQueen that I took out of a magazine, framed and hung on my bedroom wall is more valuable than the collection of postcards I've been working on for the last 10 years? What will she decide to do with all of HER report cards that I've kept for the past 17 years?