Where the Wild Things Aren't

Where the Wild Things Aren't

I approached the door with trepidation. I had been here numerous times before. I had every right to be here. I held the key in my hand. Thankfully, the lock slid open flawlessly. But when I tried the door it stuck—again. As it had every other time whenever I arrived. Even with a glove on for a more secure grip, the door wouldn't budge to give up the treasures within.

From previous visits I knew what awaited inside was like a museum. A tangible testimony to the lifetime talents and holdings of the formidable Dragon Lady. No one had breached the contents for at least seven years other than me attempting to return a remembered memento to its rightful owner.

But the time had now come. The Dragon Lady herself had ordered it so. She planned to be in attendance for the grand reveal. As far as I knew according to her assistant she was on her way. It would be an hour's drive. I intended to have things ready to go to make the effort as painless and smooth as possible for such a daunting task. If I could only conquer the door! Determined warrior woman that I am I persisted and, finally, after much straining, CLICK, there it goes! Whew! Let the horror unfold.

And there it magnificently lies before me in all its splendor. Stacks and stacks of totes and boxes of every size and color piled nearly to the rafters on three sides and teetering down a middle aisle that has slid closer to the forlorn furniture edging the ten by twelve foot space. Oh, please, where does one even begin?

Ah, reinforcements have arrived. My younger sister from out of state has volunteered her six day hiatus from her grueling job in the kitchen at her church's daycare facility to come to my aid. Without her get-it-done-spirit it would not happen at all. Even our sometimes grumbling brother offered some assistance. Bless his sixty-nine year-old heart!

If it were simply up to us we would haul it all away in a dumpster and be done in a couple of hours. 'Simple' is a seldom-used word in our family. With the Dragon Lady nothing is ever simple. We know from experience each out-dated item, piece of clothing, craft, decoration, frazzled flower, chipped china, Halloween costume or pile of fabric; each scrap of paper, every newspaper clipping or recipe; all the eight-track tapes, cascading cassette tapes, CDs, DVRs, or albums; irreplaceable music books, yearbooks; children's books, children's artwork, stuffed toys, Barbie dolls, Matchbox cars, old report cards, even class schedules; useless home work, to-do lists, old date-book calendars, spent checks, bill of sales, receipts, broken pieces of furniture, jewelry or fake fruit; past birthday cards, Mother's Day cards or pictures are going to have to be touched, held, smelled, reminisced over and cherished one more time before the final decision is announced. Trash? Donate? Keep? Misty-eyed memories mixed with cleansing laughter. There will be tears. Big dragon-sized tears.

Trash? Piled up twenty large black bags deep. Donate? Three car loads full to Goodwill. Keep? Way too much to ever please the daughter she is now living with to be happy considering the space allotted. Maybe a 'Sell' pile would be nice but we don't have the time or energy to devote to that effort for the pittance it would yield. It would never make up for the expenditure already laid out for this hope-chest.

Okay, I admit it. I am at fault. Seven years ago when my older sister needed to vacate and sell her humble home to move in with our aging mother who needed her help, I was the one who spent my summer loading all my sister's cherished belongings into totes and boxes at her direction and carefully labeling all to pack this storage unit to the gills.

Not everything got sorted through at the time. The intention was to spend time sitting in the nice weather going through unfinished business. That never happened so thus, at her insistence, it must be done now. Now, so she can put that storage fee to better use and her children will not have this to do when she passes. Having almost died last year and getting to spend the summer in a nursing home convinced her it was time. She really was living in a fantasy world believing she would need any of this in her retirement years.

Her three children repeatedly told her they wanted nothing and had no intention of helping her with the process even though she is wheelchair-bound. I am not the spry young thing I was seven years ago but resigned myself I was probably going to be the one to do it. Luckily, little sister, age sixty-five, came to aid my seventy-two-year-old self.

To the dragon's credit her hoard proved she has been a very talented creator. She spent years as a special educator; co-owned a craft shop; headed up the local Red Cross chapter; volunteered at Sunday School and Vacation Bible School summer programs; decorated for weddings and special events; entertained with skits and song parodies at private parties; and was activity director for disabled adults at a residential facility. All these occupations involved creating atmospheres and characters that she made come alive with her artistic abilities. Much of that sentimental lifetime was packed away within these walls. Much of it was hauled away in front of her with her consent. Her dragon heart withstood it bravely.

We siblings spent four days wading and sneezing through evidence wild things had been enjoying her belongings unbridled. It made it easier to say 'trash' when we found things that had been gnawed on, urinated on, or where droppings had turned to dust. The splotched mud daubers, bird droppings or spider web remains convinced her no one else would want her treasures either.

Maybe its a blessing and a curse but this optimistic seventy-five-year-old Dragon Lady forgets nothing. She called today wondering if the search had revealed her viking horned helmet or her steer head. I did unearth her green hooded sweatsuit spiked down the back dragon costume complete with purple pinned-to-the-sleeves wings, hat with foam teeth-filled long bill and bottom jaw to attach under the chin. We don't call her 'Dragon Lady' for nothing.

I am no Jackie Paper but this Warrior Woman loves this Puff and proved I would do almost anything for her including banishing wild things.