While I was patiently waiting for my therapist, I was drawn to the refreshingly beautiful green shades of the April 2011 Woman’s Day Magazine. Good move on their part, because I believe our eyes are tired of the bleak days of winter browns. I noticed most of the magazines laid out on the waiting room table boasted something in the way of spring cleaning, and the Woman’s Day mag contained two articles on de-cluttering that I found interesting and I thought I’d share:

WD’s 12-Week Decluttering Plan: Follow this step-by-step guide to get rid of pile-up for good

and

Confronting Your Clutter Conundrums: Clear pile-up by understanding why you have it and learning how to get rid of it

I haven’t slept very well since returning my mom to her home. Her nurse shared with me that he thinks she should be in an assisted living situation, or I should move in to help her.

As much as I am mostly concerned with how my mom will react to this enormous change that is falling down on us, I am also worried about how I’m going to tackle sorting through her belongings and decades of other belongings left behind by family members that have either passed on or are most likely not coming back to get their stuff. I remember the scare I got from stumbling upon a box in the basement that contained my grandpa’s dentures and my nights are filled laying awake and mentally sorting through these items in my mind.

Last night, once I finally managed to fall asleep, I had nightmares of faded photographs and for some reason, Mint.com. Probably because I’m also worried about how I’m going to find the time and money to commit to this. How will I manage to run my own business, hold down a part-time job, pursue a Graduate’s degree, care for my mom and prepare her and her home for a new chapter in life?

I realize that these thoughts and worries are the worst kinds of clutter to have. They contaminate every aspect of my being. I am trying to cleanse them with positive thought and action, and by giving thanks and appreciation for all that is good in my life.

When I pulled away from my mom’s home, she stood out in front of the garage holding her dog. I rolled the window down so she could hear me say “bye Mom!” as I backed out of the driveway. Just like every time I leave, I began to feel the sadness that goes alongside missing her, but suddenly my emotions felt as if they were lifted away with a playful gust of wind that came up through the window, and in came Spring. The Springtime of My Life flashed into my mind, and I remembered being harbored in my mother’s arms, protected. I remembered the colors: pastel greens and yellows and deep hues of blue, and the smells of wet earth and flowers; the familiarity of home. I wanted to turn my car back around and find reasons and ways to just stay home, but I didn’t, and how I manage not to every time I leave remains a mystery to me. But I noticed on the lawns of the houses that speckle the winding roads of the subdivision, that the robins were back. Heads cocked, carefully listening for their worms beneath the earth, little ambassadors of Spring. I am comforted knowing that warmer days lie ahead, and maybe if I listen closely enough, I also might hear what I need to, just beyond what I can’t quite see, but it’s oh so very near that I can almost taste it, and I expect it should most definitely be something very yummy.