Since my parents left for three years to serve a mission in Barcelona I've been charged with taking care of the house. Well, my parents and I have different styles in a handful of ways, including home furnishings and what's in our closets, etc. Seeing as I will be living here for three years, I decided that I want to "take over" a few things to make it feel more like my home.
While Mom was great about clearing her portion out, Dad left some stuff in his closet and on his desk, in the bathroom mirror cabinet, on the shelf over the toilet, etc., all of which I deem unnecessary. I've wanted to throw away a lot of those things in the past, but feel more passionately so now that I'm "Master of the House." But I've paused on trashing many things. I remember when I left on my mission I packed some boxes that I didn't want anyone to touch. Their contents were items I wanted back after my two year stint at proselyting. (One of those I was never able to recover--my Patagonia reversible pull-over. I miss that thing.)
Reflecting on these feelings, I have hesitated from indiscriminately sweeping entire shelves and desktops into garbage bags. My worry is that when Dad gets back he will ask, "Where is that bar of soap I saved from the Disneyland hotel?"
Last night I had a dream. It went thus: I had been given permission to use a rental car--a rental car that someone else had rented. Because I had permission to drive it I felt it my prerogative to make it "mine." I mean, it had been turned over to me for a period of time and I thought it reasonable to setup shop in there as I pleased. In doing so, I threw away many items left by the renters: maps, travel papers printed from the internet, little free knick-knacks from tourist sites, etc. In the midst of my cleaning, I had a few thoughts, accompanied by some confirming feelings, that I should not throw that away. But each time the thought came, I reminded myself that I had been given the vehicle for my use and hence was authorized to modify it's contents.
Well, eventually the renters came to use the car again. I began to experience some anxiety anticipating their return, which increased as I passed rentership back to them. Sure enough, my fears came true. One of them (their were two) said, "Where's that [something]?" And then, several minutes later, the other said, "Where did that [something] go?" While I don't remember exactly what they were looking for, I do distinctly remember that I had thrown away each item they desired. I was too afraid to tell them, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they discovered that the missing items were missing because I wished them gone for the short period of time I was given stewardship.
Whether or not this dream was prophetic (which I actually think is true), it definitely will change my behavior toward cleaning out the remnants of my parents' junk--or rather, their possessions that I think are unnecessary.
So, Mom and Dad (but mostly Dad), I will scoop off the shelves and desktops into neat little plastic tubs or boxes so that when you return, your prized soap from Hiltons and Marriotts, free toothbrushes, small packets of sunscreen with corporate logos, half used boxes of Breathe Right strips, and small traveling bottles rendered useless after the 3 oz. rule, will be there for you to resume your life exactly where you left off. Perhaps you will no longer care about those tiny treasures after three years, but at least I will not have the pang of regret from trashing what I deemed useless space-taker-uppers that perhaps for you are comforting collectibles years in the gathering.
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