Storage Units

 It seems everywhere you look there are clusters of white metal storage unit complexes. They are ubiquitous. We never had need for one until we sold our house and didn't know what to do with all the stuff we thought we or our family might need or want in the future. Plus the boxes and boxes of old photos, videos, family heirlooms that we just couldn't throw away. That was in 2007.

Over the past 14 years we culled and threw, gifted and repurposed. The pile has been whittled down but is still formidable. The antiques are all gone and most of the furniture was given away. We have made some space and some progress. Though every year we commit to clearing it out, we never quite do.

Next week we will attempt to clean out another storage unit; Ryan's. I rented it for him almost 3 years ago. We will cull and throw, gift and repurpose, save what might be meaningful to Davis or anyone else until such time as they are ready for it. And we will move the saved items to our bigger storage unit in Fairfield. It will be an arduous and painful process. But it must be done.

I will also take my dad's little red truck out of the storage unit to make room for my niece to store her belongings as she and her 3 kids move back to China. Lockable, secure Space. It's the gift that keeps on giving. 

But it seems to me there is a deeper, more personal metaphore going on here. We have used this place for all of our worldly goods. When mom and then dad passed away we cleaned our Ole Ironside and locked those boxes and those memories in the unit. And likewise with those items from Joe and Tina when they downsized from Harry Street. And now Ryan's stuff. 

The storage unit has become a poignant repository of memories; good and bad, joyful and painful, of deep love and anger, unresolved questions and regrets. It is a lockable, secure place to keep our innermost feelings and emotions. When we turn the key and roll open the overhead door, those feeling flood back. And always will.

It's our lives in a 10 x 30.