The other day, I was doing one of my least favorite chores, dusting. One reason I hate dusting is the job requires that I consider why I have so many objects to dust? Why am I a hoarder and a clutterer? Not happy topics to muse over. I’d rather use my brain for more creative musings and put my poetic muse to work.
The only aspect of dusting I do enjoy involves my “little things”. First, because they are little, they don’t take too much time or effort to dust. Also, the small size of each item causes me less guilt in the clutter department. These tiny treasures are not expensive in themselves, but each one marks a special occasion, or holds a memory for me. I smile when I dust them and store them away in their little hutch in the dining room.
The oldest object in the group is little Santa Ziggy. I’ve had him for about 30 Christmases. He was a gift from my brother, John. Like Ziggy, my brother is a character, and this piece of colorful plastic brings me funny memories of John. Good funny.
The masked Halloween baby with the wild orange hair used to reside in my teaching classroom every Autumn of the school year. Now, when I retrieve him from his summer home in the hutch, I think of all those teachers still teaching this fine Autumn of my Retirement years. I say a little prayer for them and a big prayer of gratitude for the most stunning Autumn colors I see from my home on the hill overlooking the Green Mountains of Vermont.
The “Happy Birthday Hug ” (behind Ziggy in the pic) was given to me by my husband, Ray. The tiny snowman was a gift to my son, Robin, from his mother-in-law, Fran. The Clan Dram miniature whisky bottle, now empty, was a gift from my daughter, Katharine, to her father – a souvenir for Ray from her trip to Ireland. Each item, just a little thing, holding a big memory for me.