I have been putting a specific task aside for over a year now. Ignoring this chore has been hard. Not wanting to take away from my son anything that he enjoys, I have neglected a certain basket in the corner of his room.
In this one corner of his bedroom is a pile that has grown deeper and taller as time went by. This basket in which the pile has grown contains the fallout of childhood dreams and memories of times gone by.
This is where his toys are kept.
From the must haves, to those passed down from family and friends, birthday gifts to Santa presents. All of these toys have occupied this space for many years. Being a sentimental spirit, each toy must not be given up. Whether intact or not, each one holds a special place in his heart.
Not wanting to be the one to take his heart apart one bit at a time, I have allowed this to go for far too long. Without him knowing, I have gone through this pile removing items that do not belong there, such as "hidden" tv remote controls, unpaired socks, and markers that no longer color. Other than that, each of his cherished treasures remain where he left them.
As his 11th birthday approached, I had contemplated talking to him about packing up a few of his things to be stored in the basement. Knowing how he reacts to this conversation (we have had it before) I spared myself any ensuing arguements that he has on why his toys should stay put.
On a Saturday afternoon, not long ago, I was cleaning house. I knew that he was busy, but with what I didn't know. As the day wore on, I started cooking dinner. The aromas started to fill the house and he came out to see what was on the menu. As he walked away he asked for a trash bag. I told him sure, hoping he would use it for something productive.
All the sudden I heard a loud clank as something hit the floor. I turned around wondering what in the world was crashing down. I saw the look of pride on his face as he sat down two trash bags and the basket on the kitchen floor. In my mind I knew in an instant what was happening. My sweet, not so little boy decided on his own that it was time for the toys to go.
He said, "Here Mom, here's all my toys. I think I am too old for them now." With that one statement, it was My heart that was being taken apart one bit at a time. "Where do you want them?" I had to clear my throat of emotion, and said, "Put them in the living room for now."
As he was putting his once treasured belongings in another room, my mind was taking a quick inventory of what could be in those bags. Were his favorite stuffed animals and cars in there?
I heard the sound of the vacuum coming from his room, tearing me away from my reverie. Knowing that he was busy for a few minutes, I peeked inside the bags.
Seeing his discarded things made me so sad. I wanted to rush back to his room and put everything just the way it was. I knew I could not do that. He was making a statement and I had to respect it.
Instead I grabbed my phone and through my tears I had a long conversation via text with a close friend of mine. I knew she had to have gone through this before, she had two sons that were older than mine. She would understand. A mother's heartbreak cannot be held in secret. It must come out, if not my chest would surely explode. She comiserated with me, knowing just how I felt.
I left those toys in the living room for a week or so. I could not bear to see what he packed away. I wanted to know in my mind, yet I was not sure my heart could withstand it. So, one day while my husband took my two boys out for an afternoon of fun, I sat down and opened the bags. I gently dumped out their contents and slowly made my way through them. Laughing and crying at the same time, I was remembering him playing with each one. As I sat there, I was making piles of my own, what to save and what could be thrown away. When I was done I did have some things to get rid of. As any mom knows, there has to be twice as many broken toys as there are ones intact.
Out of his pile of toys he put into bags, I found yet another "hidden" tv remote, five socks and about a dozen markers that didn't work and enough baseball cards to fill a book.
There are a few things I did sneak back in his room. My heart could not bear to have them packed and put in the basement. Maybe he has seen them, maybe not. If so, he hasn't said a word.
Although these are just his toys, they are my memories of times gone by. Time that I would never get back. Each one holds a picture in my mind of the day he got it. The pure joy of receiving a wish come true, in the form of something tangible that brings that wish to life.
I will always remember this day. The day that he decided he was grown up. The day my heart was taken apart piece by piece.
I will also remember the day my wish came true, something to hold in my hands, the day my son was born.
