After pondering how I would spend my time knowing everything would be gone, I reflected upon deeper thoughts: Knowing the world isn’t ending in 21 days.
Today I started stocking my display case at a local thrift/antique shop. I need the cash infusion. Honestly, I have a LOT that I could downsize and sell. Starting with stuff I meant to sell, and a few items that are valuable in their own right.
I have some vintage toys that mean a LOT, to me. I’ve been blessed to be able to retain many of my original childhood toys, and purchase more of highly collectible ones (of value to others as well.) Many I have held onto to pass on to my grandchildren.
Except I don’t have any. And odds are I never will. I had one child, and somewhere along the way he downsized from wanting a passel of kids (OK, he was 6 at the time) to not wanting any, and the girl he tells my mother he will likely marry some day (they live together, for several years now) does not want any either.
Even if I hadn’t been hurt by Writer (see earlier posts if you are curious why), and unsure if we will ever be together again as a couple, his two sons and one daughter-in-law do not want children either.
So there is no purpose to holding onto my vast collection of vintage Fisher Price Little People (from before they were chunky) except the few very sentimental pieces I still play with (you’re never too old for the Floating Marina!) And it makes me sad. I will never share the hours of joy in make-believe, being the freaking awesome grandmother I know I could be.
As if I my depression were not all-consuming already.
At least by selling them, I may bring joy to another Grandmother, helping her create memories of laughter and fun that will live on in her little ones.