I hit that spot everyone has been telling me I would...or just watching, knowing I would.
It came in the form of two boxes.
I opened an old dusty box and found a series of romance novels I read starting in '75 or '76. Innocuous really. I had packed them away when I left 88 Elm Street for my new married life. There was no where for them in our first apartment in Revere, so they stayed boxed. Then I lugged the box to Kingston and up into the attic. I had plans. there was a wall in the living room that would just be shelves. I had acquired more books. the living room would be like a library. But there were always more important things to do than my library, so the books waited.
Then I finally got to the point where I had some dough put aside. I hired an electrician to start rewiring the house. It was the first step toward the bedroom/living room renovation. The boys were getting older, why Tom was actually gone already. There were going to be tons of built-in shelves. I ditched my queen size bed for a twin so there would be more room for books. I had a guy who was going to build special shelves and this swing out contraption for my computer.
But then I was diagnosed and everything kind of spun out of control for a while. I was just starting to pull my shit together last summer.
Which brings me to the second box. I had packed it up last summer just before my brother and my Dad started working on my room. It was in the middle of that renovation that I found I would lose the house - July of '09. So I never got back to the attic to unpack it.
It's things from the boys mostly. They were going to have special places on shelves just like the books.
So I excused myself. I said I had to run down to my sister Jen's. She's not here. There's a blessing.
Alright, enough of this pity party. I have to get back.