We spent the weekend pulling off our first yard sale, an event I really should have photographed, but didn't, partly because I was just too busy, and partly because I don't really want to remember it.
Our little garage which was so full that a person could barely walk through it now appears nearly empty by comparison. All the old baby toys and high chairs, the Pack 'n Play and the crib mattress, the diaper pail and training potty, and so many baby clothes, they are all gone, now. Some went to good homes, some were donated, and most were bought by yard sale pros who will pack everything into the back of a truck and resell at a considerable profit in Mexico City. I am trying not to think too much about that.
We made a nice profit, ourselves, and it is a pretty fantastic feeling to be free of all that stuff crowding our already cramped space. And I realize that it's not as though I had my tubes tied over the weekend. But, well, each day that goes by already feels like another step away from having another baby, and that is hard on its own. Getting rid of all the baby gear just feels like a rubber stamp on the decision. And I did not like saying goodbye to items which seem to be soaked through in memories of what we've had. Because they were ours - they were bought with dreams and used with love and packed away with sadness tempered with hope. This has been a year of saying goodbye to babyhood, and I know it comes as no surprise, but I really, really, really loved having little babies.
|with Lena, photo credit: the amazing Gia Canali|
|with Eve, photo credit, again: Gia Canali|
I can't predict the future. We haven't exactly shut any doors behind us. But we do walk further and further away every day. Which, for now, is okay. Possibly for forever it will be okay, too. Really okay. Because now I have this:
and it's hard to imagine any room for improvement.