September 28, Tuesday
While on my 6th day of self-imposed quarantine in the guest room I sorted two boxes of old clothes temporarily stored here. Most of the items were from my son’s bedroom. We transferred his things to make way for cabinet and closet spaces for Derrick’s things.
In the past 5 years, I have brought a dozen shirts and suits, etc to my son thinking that those were his favorites. I was mistaken. Firstly, he couldn’t fit in those old clothes anymore because he has become a little chubby chupchup. And even if some still fit, he has no closet space. His room is tiny and his closet too.
I phoned him (he was sleeping pala) to ask permission if I could give away or donate his clothes. It doesn’t matter if he is coming back in 5 years, or 10, or 25, I just want to be sure he will not feel bad that I gave away his clothes and shoes.
It’s hard to let go of things not because I am attached to material possessions. Most of these items have no economic value but I am attached to the memories that come with them.
School shirts remind me of my son while still in school. Fordham tee when my daughter was a teen. The basketball uniforms, etc.
Why do kids grow very fast, and me, grow old faster than I want to?