Farewell to the horse I rode in on

Woke up at 8:21, too late for Mass, because of a dream. In the dream, we went to our summer house…(or maybe it was my sister Margaret Opatrny ’s house on the Long Island Sound, because my brother-in-law Donny was there building my nephew Spencer a bed from Ikea and Spencer was smiling in his silent Cheshire-cat-like way). The house next door had just been demolished, an ancient stone building from perhaps 1740.  One minute (or perhaps 270 years) it was there, and the next it was gone. And I wondered why historic preservation protections hadn’t saved this house.

But in my dream, the house also had NOT been demolished, because as nosy neighbors, we all went through the vacant place. Obviously, someone had gone through the house and tagged all the valuables for an upcoming auction. I was in the comforting presence of elder females…maybe my aunts or my biological grand-aunts (whom I never met) or more likely my son’s in-laws, Grandma Betty, Aunt Jayme and Susan. Somebody held up an old bed coverlet in blacks and greys and whites she wanted to bid on. There was a wealth of old milk pitchers and vases, some in lusterware, the kind of stuff I am drawn to. They kept asking, “What do you want to bid on?”

But I said, “I have pretty much one of everything that’s here. I don’t need any more.”

I did see a couple of pieces commemorating the year 1952. One was a hot plate that said “The Lord only knows what will happen in 1952.” And I said to the woman I was with, “I happened in 1952. There are a couple of 1952 pieces here. That must have been the year the couple married.”

I think this dream relates to the work –and emotional work—I have been doing. I have been working hard at clearing things out this week. On Saturday, we traded in my 2004 Ford Explorer, a car I’ve had for 8 years. I was very devoted to that SUV. It had a sun roof, a hitch we installed in the back so I could carry a trailer, a DVD player so the kids could watch movies on long trips, and keyless entry, so I could lock my keys in the car and get in without keys because I knew the digital combination. (Very important: Once Jim locked an earlier car of mine, not realizing the keys were inside. And another time, I inadvertently locked in my sleeping baby Mike, and had to have the gas station across the street from where I was parked pop the lock.)

Now, all my kids have their own cars, and most of them no longer live with me.

Over the years, my Ford Explorer has become absolutely cluttered with detritus:Books, magazines and music CDs,  clothes for the cold and the rain, extra shoes, first aid kits, makeup. It held 5 or 6 or 7 snow- and ice-scrapers, and maybe 40 shopping bags (beautiful shopping bags) from the dump. You never know when you’ll need shopping bags. A couple of years ago, the front passenger seat was also bulging with stuff. But I cleared out enough to keep the front seat clear more recently. Nonetheless, when I found old books at the dump, or magazines for my sister Margaret’s 5-year-old grandchildren Jocelyn and Abby, the middle seats would fill up. The two back seats were completely filled. I couldn’t tell you what was at the bottom. It was like an archeological dig.

I  just decided on Friday that my Ford was a gas guzzler and the car was probably on the brink of new repairs, because it was sticking when I tried to move the gearshift out of park. I told Jim I wanted a new car.

New cars are among his favorite things, so by 11:30 on Saturday, we were buying a 2011 Toyota Prius, a hybrid car that runs on electric and gas. My son Matt bought a Prius the month before, and he raves about his car. (He’s a little OCD  so he is constantly telling you about his mileage.)

The moment we decided to buy the Prius (and now they give you the car immediately to drive off the lot), I faced the really daunting task of emptying my Ford. The rear trunk area was easy because everything there was in plastic bins. But the rear seats, the middle seats, the side pockets and the pockets behind the front seats were jam-packed. When I picked up the Ford to bring to the dealer (we had first come in Maeve’s car), I cleared out the middle seats. When we decided to purchase, I brought the Ford back home and started dumping things into Matt’s old car (which we bought from him to give to my hapless brother-in-law Billy.) Then Jim called saying I had to come back to the dealership…they were waiting for his checkbook.  At the dealership, I was dumping everything willy-nilly into bags, as Jim sat next to me in the new Prius, reading the owner’s manual and talking on the phone to Matt, who was heading to Atlantic City for his high school friend Chris Kerrigan’s 30^th birthday party.

So now I have to go through bags and bins, and clear out. I haven’t even driven the Prius yet. I put all the music CD’s (in maybe 6 or 7 bags from the Ford) into a big plastic bin and put the bin into the trunk of the Prius. Then I found more CD’s, and decided the bin takes up too much trunk space, so I carted the bin back into the house. I went through some of the CD’s and created a compilation book of CD’s, using a book with plastic CD holders I found in the dump.(And, yes, I know, no one uses CD’s anymore; they all have iTunes downloaded onto MP3 players.) I removed mountains of coins from the Ford, and I am using the change to buy my morning coffee. I still have a lot to throw out and organize.

Meanwhile, I am (very slowly) clearing out the computer room (the back bedroom on the second floor) as well as a closet in Matt’s old room (loaded with carefully marked bins holding shoes and sweaters). I have been to Goodwill with donations twice this week.

The feeling I got from this morning’s dream was acceptance with sadness. I no longer need the things I so intensely once needed, saved and preserved. And while I once gave great value to possessions I obtained for myself, my husband and my children, I no longer need many of those possessions. It’s blank-slate, holy open-space time. It’s saving on energy and travelling light.