I love nostalgia, but I hate clutter. I go through alternating phases of collecting bits of ephemera and then leaving various trinkets out near the street so someone else can have an exciting find. Or, for the family heirlooms, boxing them up and hauling them up to the attic to get dusty.
The same goes for your toys. Needless to say, your boxes, bins and bags of toys that spill out all over the house keep me in a state of anxiety. I am constantly sorting blocks, lincoln logs, matchbox cars and crayons. Why do kids’ toys come with a million parts? Surely it’s to drive me crazy. I’ve been in a very minimal stage for a long time because less clutter means less to clean and your toy box explosion is pushing my boundaries.
But over the holidays, I was in a friend’s house for a Christmas party and found myself enthralled with her collections. Her ability to mix old and new and in turn create her own look inspired me. It made me want more “old stuff”, things that have a history, in our house.
This little chair sits in the living room and it’s the first thing you see as you walk in the door. The old me would have had this tucked into the eaves of the attic on one of my cleaning purges, only to be removed when we moved. But the new me decided to leave it out and to look at it for a while. It speaks to different parts of our family. The chair was a gift to your cousin Addie from Uncle Michael and Aunt Lisa and the boys. Lisa painted Addie’s name on there. And the pillow was cross-stitched by your Gran, shorty after I was born. You sit on this chair on occasion to bang on your little piano and I suppose that reminds me of my own childhood in a way.
By the way… guess who who loves owls. You do.