goodbye little bits

One of the things that has distracted me from meeting my winter goals has been decluttering, sorting, and pitching. Did I tell you last Saturday I went through the house room by room collecting things? Some of those things went into the garbage, some went to friends and family, and the rest went to Goodwill. Oh! I forgot to tell you how many things: one hundred. It was so much fun and it felt so good, I'm thinking about trying it again this weekend. My husband has already chained down the fridge....

Anyway, back in September I wrote about my clutter. I didn't think I had a lot of it so I was kind-of surprised at how easy it was to gather 100 things to get rid of last weekend. What I thought I had was paper clutter. I won't go into all that again. You can click on the highlighted words if you're interested in reading about my pondering-on-paper propensity.

Anyway again, this week I went through my drawers, notebooks, bible, jewelry box and my purse and gathered all those little bits of paper. I stacked them together on my desk and looked at the pile. No joke-it was almost 1 1/2 inches high. That's a lot of pondering. I've been working my way through that pile, sorting, saving, and pitching. (Nothing there is going to Goodwill.)

I also found something I want to share with you. I wanted to share it and then pitch it, but I don't think that's possible. It's attached to a lump in my throat by an invisible thread.

To My Grown-Up Son

My hands were busy through the day,

I didn't have much time to play

The little games you asked me to,

I didn't have much time for you.

I'd wash your clothes; I'd sew and cook,

But when you'd bring your picture book

And ask me, please, to share your fun,

I'd say, "A little later, son."

I'd tuck you in all safe at night,

and hear your prayers, turn out the light,

then tiptoe softly to the door,

I wish I'd stayed a minute more.

For life is short, and years rush past,

a little boy grows up so fast,

no longer is he at your side,

his precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,

there are no children's games to play,

no goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear,

that all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy, now lie still,

the days are long and hard to fill,

I wish I might go back and do,

the little things you asked me to.

Alice E. Chase

goodbye little bits.....