The long march to the curb
Mark Pavilons

It's necessary and we all have to do it.

You know, that long, or short, jaunt to the curb, armed with boxes, bags, furniture and a handful of memories.

We toss out our household waste on a weekly basis, never giving it much thought. But when it comes time to literally clean house, the chore takes on a whole new slant.

I have had the "pleasure" of moving three times so far and I will be preparing for our fourth. I also had to "wrap up" the lives of two of my relatives by clearing out their dwellings.

It's always pretty much the same.

Years and years of memories, collections, mementoes and well, junk, are gathered, examined briefly and then unceremoniously delegated to the heap at the end of the driveway.

My mom has been cleaning out her house for months now, in preparation of her upcoming move. With the skill of a gardener removing weeds, she thinned out her life, discarding the bulk of her objects that held no discernible sentiment or meaning. She's never been one for expensive trinkets or elaborate collections. To her, some family photos, a few greeting cards from the kids and grandkids, contain the warmth of the world. Pieces of furniture, wall hangings and kitchen utensils just weigh you down.

I think I get my practical approach from her.

The crunch is near, and so my family will be frequent visitors over the next few weeks, making many more trips to the curb. When the closing day nears, all that will remain is an empty house that once contained a bit of the Pavilons family history. Nothing more.

But going through one's house can be a bit of a journey in itself - an emotion reflection on life.

My dad, who left us almost 10 years ago, amassed an interesting collection of junk. He was a tinkerer and created some very inventive gizmos and contraptions to ease the workload on the old homestead on Duffy's Lane. I found a fourfoot 2 X 4 with lawnmower wheels; candle sticks made from chains; a host of things made with small electric motors and bundles of wires and cables, presumably for those rainy days when that type of stuff comes in handy. My wife and I smiled as I passed her these strangelooking things and I saw my dad's weathered face in my mind.

While I tried to pay attention to my dad's lessons over the years, I was not the mechanical type. As it turns out, neither was he, but he tried. I must say his benches made from tree trunks and branches were quite something. And these will remain in the treasure trove that is the Pavilons legacy.

The Bolton subdivision home was quite a switch from their rural estate. It was a move of necessity, with some regrets.

Oh, how we'd love to get the old place back on Duffy's Lane. Given today's real estate prices, it's way out of reach. I dutifully purchase lottery tickets each week in hopes of cashing in and one day providing a new homestead to my gaggle.

Mom's clearout has been relatively easy and smooth. Of course, there will be truck rentals and storage units to come, along with the accompanying scrapes and bruises. There may be some laughs, and some tears, too.

Then, as we embark on the next phase of our journey, a move will be in our future, too.

That won't be as easy. While our collection of memories is relatively new (we've been in our current home for a little over seven years), my wife and three ankle-biters are like squirrels - hoarding this and that in hopes that one day it will find a use. Thinning our house, even though it's a small one, will require Herculean fortitude.

I am often tempted, each week as I make my household cleaning rounds, to toss everything that lies in my path. But, alas, the ramifications just aren't worth it.

But the day will come when bags and boxes of worthless treasures will be carried to the curb yet again.

And again.

It's like the circle of life, only with homes and possessions.

Many people have said they dread moving (I've said it several times myself) and yet we do it again and again.

I know our next move will be different to say the least. I'd like to say it will be the last, but you never know.

The new, larger digs we're looking for will seem almost cavernous to our current overcrowded lives. But, as my eldest offspring noted, it takes time to make a house a home filled with warmth, love and security. True enough.

I wonder how many memories of mine will end up at the curb in the coming months?