A Hoarder’s Treasure

American flags from a Boston Independence Day.
Dust collecting Hummel figurines from my childhood.
Irish drum from a long ago trip to the Emerald Isle.
Shelves of steins collected over the years.
Playbooks and concert programs.
Key chains and magnets.
Champagne glasses galore.
More photo albums than I can count.

Each thing you call junk,
that you say I can throw out,
I hold in my hands,
I look at it and
I remember—
where it came from,
what I was doing at the time,
and the emotion it brought with it.

Yes, there is clutter,
and space is limited,
but how can I toss out the daughter plaque
that my mother gave me when I was first married?
Or the 70 year old  teddy bear
from my grandmother in Germany,
who I never got to meet?
He may be raggedy-looking,
but he holds a thousand memories.

You take thousands of pictures 
that you never print.
You have nothing to hold in your hands.
I am surrounded by my life,
tangible memories I can touch
whenever I need to be reminded
how precious life is.

So much is lost 
when we are required to downsize.
I wish I had the glass treasures
that once filled my grandmother's china cabinet;
they are long gone, 
but I see them still in my mind's eye,
and I remember her stories about them.

Maybe I am the hoarder you say I am,
but I'm not hoarding useless clutter;
I'm am hoarding the treasures of a lifetime.

~Elise Skidmore ©2024