The Last Day of the Year

Here I sit, taking a break from cleaning out my closet in my room in my parents' house. I know that is a very preposition heavy sentence, but all of those locations are important. I am listening to The Beatles and sifting through the detritus of years. That closet was stuffed from floor to ceiling, yes the cliche closet in sit coms and movies. It has been a good activity for the end of the year. It is a frosty day and the sun has just set in Logan. It is 23 degrees outside. I am strangely calm that I don't have many plans for the evening. My parents are out with friends and I am cleaning out my closet, by choice, both physically and metaphysically. I have gone through piles of letters from missionaries who never did marry me, thesis committee notes, poetry of my own and of friends, obituaries, and treasures that I no longer treasure. Throwing things out can be empowering. Like those letters, why keep them? Some I did keep just as proof for my children, but really why hoard them? I threw out roughly 3/4 of the closet's contents and everything is now nicely categorized and stacked in boxes. And somehow now my mind is in the same state. I have been able to think through a lot of garbage and throw out what is not necessary and treasure up some others. I have also created a miscellaneous pile of things that I am not quite ready to get rid of or accept. Things to look through next year maybe. It is a good place to be. So at the end of this year, one of the hardest I have been through, I am glad that the closet door is closed and I am not afraid of what is on the other side. Please don't analyze that for more than I mean it to be. :) Happy New Year.