It is summer and so I am cleaning out closets. Today I went through my son's stash of old papers from high school, including a lot of assignments and brush writing from his Japanese language and culture class.

I found the inflatable mattress. I wondered where that had gone.

I found a couple of games still wrapped in plastic underneath dusty boxes including Monopoly-Star Wars Version and Scattergories and Mastermind. These were last-minute Christmas purchases that I thought were necessary to ensure an appearance of unconditional abundance. There was a long period of time when I wanted the kids to wake up to a tree enveloped by gaily wrapped presents, a veritable landslide of orgiastic consumerism. Where did this come from, I wonder?

I found a nativity scene that Grandma Kay sent down for Mathias a few years before she died.

I question whether or not to toss a lot of this stuff, or donate it to the Disabled Veterans down on Sonora. I wonder if I am throwing away some aspect of my son's childhood that he will someday want to see and, when he asks me where his origami projects are, I'll have to admit that I threw them away when he was off at college.

I just cannot see the good in holding on to these artifacts. I can't see the good in holding on to my own flotsam, either. Some of it is quaint, but most of it is frankly pretty boring. Certainly there can be no need to retain merely adequate essays, right? I read through them and do not see gems. The work sheets are easy to toss. The original artwork and personal stories do go into a big portfolio, and he can do with that what he wants.

I'm at a point, and I've been here for quite a few years, where the weight of the things around me drags me down, makes me feel ineffective and depressed. I save unused envelopes and small journals and greeting cards and scores of pens and pencils, believing that one day I will find the perfect use for whatever it is and all will be balanced and right with the universe.

But many years have gone by and I have accumulated boxes of stuff. Some of it is cute and some is utilitarian, but having it around me has not enriched my life or helped me do anything very differently or better or in a more interesting fashion.

So it's time to let go. Give away, clean up, pare down. Keep the few essential items and of course the books that I really do want to read (but not all the godforsaken teaching books!). No one else around here wants to face the hard decisions so it has to be me. I have to be the brave pioneer woman who takes the heirloom pump organ and sets it resolutely by the side of the wagon train rut.

I will tie my bonnet anew, set my mostly Norwegian jaw, and forge forward to a less cluttered future.

I was looking for a good photo to post here that would illustrate clutter artistically, and I ran across a line from a hoarding article that said that clutter is obesity of the home. Yikes.

Note: I will not give away Grandma Kay's nativity scene!