What If I Need It Again?
In the hall closet hangs a brown wool coat she has not worn in nine winters.
The kitchen drawer in Marguerite's house does not close all the way. It holds rubber bands from the newspaper, twist ties, string, and a tangle of keys that open nothing she owns. Under the stairs are two shelves of empty jars with their lids. In the hall closet hangs a brown wool coat she has not worn in nine winters.
Marguerite is 69. She lives alone. When her niece Tilly asked if she would sell the house and spend part of the year somewhere warm, Marguerite said it sounded lovely. Then she did not sleep.
Tilly visited on a Wednesday and sat at the kitchen table. She asked what each thing was for.
| The thing | What it holds for her |
|---|---|
| Rubber bands and string | The weeks when the grocery money ran short |
| Empty jars | Her mother's pantry, which was never empty |
| The brown wool coat | The first thing she bought with her own pay |
"I know what you are going to say," Marguerite told her. "That I have the money now."
"I was going to ask which one is hardest," Tilly said.
Marguerite looked at the coat for a long time. "The coat."
It was too big in the shoulders and the lining had split. A woman at the church clothing table might need it this very winter. Marguerite knew this. She took it off the hanger anyway and held it against her chest.
"What if I need it again?" she said. Her voice had gone small.
"Then you would buy another one," Tilly said.
"With what?" Marguerite said, and the sentence came out sharper than she meant. She sat down on the stairs. "That is what I am afraid of. Being the girl in the cold kitchen with no coat. It does not matter what is in the bank. She is still here."
Tilly went and put the kettle on and let her sit.
When she came back, Marguerite said, "I will drive it over. You do not have to come in."
They went together. At the church table a young woman tried the coat on, turned a little to see herself, and said it was exactly what she needed for the bus stop. Marguerite said, "It is warm." That was all she could manage.
She walked back to the car in the March wind. She was cold. She said so, and Tilly laughed, and then Marguerite did too.
At home she did not touch the drawer or the jars. The drawer still did not close.
What waiting looks like
Marguerite turns 70 this year and hopes to spend next winter somewhere warm. The jars and the drawer would have to be sorted before the house is left for months. If that waits for a day she feels ready, she may be 75 before it starts. One object at a time is a slow pace. She has time for it, though not unlimited time.
You could…
- Pick one object, the easiest or the hardest, and decide where it will go and who will receive it.
- Keep a small box for the things that carry the most worry, with a limit you set yourself, and let that box be allowed.
- Invite a trusted friend or relative to sit with you without deciding anything for you.
- Ask a professional organizer, or a counselor who works with people who find it hard to let go, to help at a pace you choose.
Is there a thing in your home that holds a fear older than the thing itself? We would like to hear it.
Tell us in the comments