“I hope you’re being serious, because I totally am going to take you up on that.”
“Serious as a heart attack.”
“What?”
“I would be happy to do it, Lindsey. Okay? Now, let’s get Leila and go over this stuff.”
Leila looked pensively at the stacks Jane and Lindsey had made.
“I think this is mostly my kids’ stuff, so I’d like them to have a chance to look it over before tossing things. There might be things they want to hang on to.”
Again, Leila for the win. So thoughtful and considerate! When Jane went off to college, her room had been turned into an office and everything she had saved over the years—schoolwork, posters, mementos—was gone. Her mother had taken all her stuff to a dumpster. It was as if she had thrown away Jane’s childhood. The memory, still visceral, evoked feelings of sadness, anger, helplessness, nausea.
Maybe Jane had been drawn to decluttering because it was a kind of preemptive strike: if you didn’t own anything with sentimental value, you would never be vulnerable to the heartbreak of losing it.
“We sorted by category—books, schoolwork, art projects,” Jane explained, “and we found some stuff that might be valuable—a stamp collection, a small coin collection, and baseball cards.”
“It’s so hard to know what any of it is worth... or what has sentimental value.... I’ll let the kids decide. They’re all old enough to deal with it.”
“Culling requires maturity, and it’s great that you trust them to do it,” Jane said admiringly.
“What other option is there?” Leila asked.
Jane stifled the impulse to tell her about the dumpster.
“I remember the first time Jimmy got on those skis—I can’t believe we still have them! It’s like saving baby shoes, except they take up more room. It’s hard when your kids leave the nest.”
Lelia walked over to the stack of books and carefully picked up a copy ofInfinite Jest. It was as if a cloud suddenly came over her.
“Books can be some of the hardest items to decide about,” Jane said.
Leila seemed frozen.
Lindsey added, “We know it can be difficult. If you need some time...”
Leila smiled, but her eyes looked so sad. “Well, you’re here now and we should get it done. This book—I don’t know if I want to keep it or get rid of it. It was my husband’s favorite novel, but I never could get through it. I have no idea how it ended up here. I just don’t know...”
Jane was unsettled by Leila’s loss of composure.
“Leila, bear in mind, the memories are yours forever. You may not need to keep the object.”
“Honestly, this isn’t the greatest memory. My husband took his own life, so you can understand why this book, and, you know, David Foster Wallace, is upsetting.”
Jane, at a loss for words, simply nodded.
“I am so, so sorry, Leila.” Lindsey did have a skill for consoling.
“You never entirely recover....” Lelia’s eyes had grown moist.
Lindsey nodded in agreement. “I know.” How did she know? A class at Antioch?
Jane was again at a loss as to what to say, but Lindsey was in her element.
“Leila, I know this might seem weird, but—would you like a hug?”
Leila blinked back a tear and smiled.
“That’s not weird, it’s very sweet, thank you.”
