Leftovers

This is not a post about food, but about a completely different kind of leftovers. We have had the joy of raising six wonderful children and releasing five of them into the wild or the world, or well, into marriage, at least. They did not, however take all of their belongings with them. We have gobs of things that belong to our adult children. Things like awards, yearbooks, trophies and medals. We have a violin that needs a new bow, an entire box of sparkly, shiny dance costumes and a pile of VHS movies that, in all likelihood, no one will ever be able to view. We can't throw them away, you see, because they are "classics." We have done quite a bit of weeding out as we downsized to a smaller home last year. We were able to sell the motorcycle and welding rig one son just had to have...until he joined the Navy. That boy's extensive gun collection and the huge gun cabinet it occupies went to stay at a brother's house. They can sort that one out between the two of them. I mailed Navy Son's impressive John Wayne movie collection to him recently. I hope his sweet wife is not mad at me! I think I managed to get  the prom dresses to the right girls but I purposely held onto my most treasured home school curriculum and resources for the one or two of my children who may pursue that in the future. I wrote earlier about the pain of distributing things like diplomas, birth certificates and social security cards to their rightful owners. It's funny to me that most of these items carry such value to their respective owners that they cannot be disposed of, yet no one wants to claim them and take them to their place. I still come across little things on a fairly regular basis that should probably be taking up space in someone elses's home and life, most notably the two furry mutts who still live here!

We have never really been dog people but we felt, sometime long ago, that caring for pets would be good for our kids, you know, the feeding, walking, bathing, cleaning up after them routine. Imagine our surprise when those puppies did not pack up and move when the kids did! One long, quiet, maybe even a tiny bit boring evening recently I discovered my dear husband having quite the animated conversation with our smallest, yappiest dog.

"Is that so?!" He asked.

"Yap, Yap, Yap....."

"What's that, Lassie? Timmy's stuck in the well?"

"Yap, Yap, Yap, Yappity, Yap...."

"Again?!"

"Yappppppppp!"

This went on for some time and while it doesn't take much to excite a chihuahua, I guess being without a TV had really begun to take it's toll on Bill! I declared that we had become officially old, sitting alone in our house carrying on conversations with the dogs. I was informed that we were not, in fact, old because we were entertaining "leftover" dogs, dogs left behind by their owners, not to be confused with new dogs. We would be old, hubby declared, should we go out after being child and dog free and procure a new dog to occupy our time. That...will...never...happen. Since we dodged that one I'm glad to report that we are not officially old just yet.

I really don't mind the leftovers, not all of them anyway. I like reading the sweet letters and homemade cards my kids have written to me over the years. Baby books and photographs are always fun to look through. I have a very small denim jacket in one of my dresser drawers, a gift from a grandpa, long gone to a sweet toddler son, now grown.  I have no plans to ever give that away. I have a few locks of hair, a baby shoe or two and a tiny string of pearls I am saving for the day that daughter's little girl, whoever she may be, can wear them. Memories take up very little space and to my delight, those leftovers do not shed...or bark.