Life imitates art. Or does art imitate life? It's hard to say. In this case, I would say that my filthy closet is a symbol of life imitating art because this closet represents the last ten years of my life. We moved in ten years ago from tomorrow, an auspicious day to say the least.
We were making life changes. Downsizing when downsizing was a nice way of saying that we just couldn't afford to live the way we were. We came out of a big new house and moved into a smaller older house that needed major remodeling which we did over the course of about 9 years.
And all the while, I kept throwing things in my closet. Things I had no space for. Things I didn't know what to do with. Things that no one wanted. Pocketbooks. A steam cleaner. Christmas ornaments that were never to be found again. An expensive raincoat I bought in a thrift store when I had no money. I never wore it, but there it sits.
It is also packed with Christmas wrapping paper I forgot about the day I put it there. Old gloves that were never to be found again. Boxes. Comforters. Stuff.
And over the years, I kept piling stuff in, as if getting them out of sight would get them out of mind. And it did. And then one day I couldn't shut the door. Not another coat could fit in the danged closet and it was time to clean it out.
As I pulled each thing out, I realized that they represented a time in my life when I was too preoccupied with my own demons to do much about anything else around here. My sister was sick and dying. I was in a bad car accident and didn't walk so well for a few years. The trauma of my own childhood came flooding in on me one day and grabbed me by the throat until I'd listen and let it out. And I kept packing those things in the closet.
But as I pulled them all out yesterday, I realized that the demons are gone and it's a good reason to clean things up and start new.
That is what I'm doing this summer. I'm starting anew.
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