In our family, Mother’s Day is a cherished tradition. Each year, a different sibling takes the helm to host the entire family gathering. This time, it was my turn. With just three days to go before the big dinner, I felt a sense of accomplishment—I was actually ahead of schedule! The invitations were sent, the menu was set, and the house was nearly spotless.
Typically, I settle for a state of functional tidiness, but since our home was selected as the official meeting place for both sides of the family, I felt compelled to go above and beyond. I tackled the obvious tasks first, but with a little extra time on my hands, I decided to confront the one area of the house that had been nagging at me the most: our junk drawer.
I’m convinced that every family has one of those drawers—the place where old phone numbers, appliance warranties, and napkin-scribbled recipes go to gather dust. It’s the catch-all for all those little items you plan to sort out when you find just the right place for them. Our junk drawer resides in the kitchen, conveniently located near the phone. On one occasion, I tried to shove a pencil into it, only to have it bounce back at me as if it were alive. That was my cue: it was time to clean.
I scheduled a time to tackle the drawer right after breakfast, ensuring the kids were at school. It was the only way to clear away the endless supply of string and torn paper they would insist on saving for some grand future project. No mother should have to battle a bulging drawer while facing sad little faces pleading to keep every scrap of paper.
Armed with a hefty garbage bag, I approached the drawer with determination. If I couldn’t recall the name associated with a phone number, I wouldn’t waste time playing twenty questions with a stranger. And if any warranty looked older than my marriage license, I’d assume that appliance had served its purpose and could be tossed. I was resolute in my mission to find the bottom of that drawer.
As I sorted through a mountain of 3×5 cards detailing cake ingredients, stray thank-you cards with mismatched envelopes, and a collection of springs and bolts from something that had clearly seen better days, I hit my first emotional roadblock—a drawing of “Mommy” by my five-year-old. The date and the misspelled words flooded me with memories of the day he presented it to me, eyes shining with pride. I couldn’t bear to part with it, so I folded it neatly and returned it to the drawer.
While discarding broken crayons, I stumbled upon an envelope that rattled when I lifted it. Curiosity piqued, I opened it to discover sand and small rocks spilling onto the floor. It hit me like a wave—this was my second grader’s keepsake from our beach trip. She had begged me to let her take home the sand and stones from her shoes, and I remembered her delight when she emptied her sandals. I carefully swept the remnants into a pile, returned them to the envelope, and set it back in the drawer.
The process became easier after that. I uncovered hearts made for Valentine’s Day, pictures of rainbows, and notes filled with “I love you.” Each item was a portal to a memory, and I found myself cherishing the time spent with each piece, my garbage bag now feeling decidedly lighter.
As the hours passed, I couldn’t help but reflect on how quickly children grow up. The years zoom by, leaving us with little more than misspelled notes and the warmth they bring to our hearts. My mission was nearly complete. I decided that this drawer didn’t need cleaning—it needed proper labeling. Picking up a broken red crayon, I scribbled “TREASURES” on a piece of paper and taped it to the drawer. It was clear, at least to me, that the contents of this drawer were not junk; they were precious reminders of the children who make Mother’s Day a celebration that lasts a lifetime.
If you’re interested in similar stories and insights, check out this post for more engaging content. And for those exploring their own journeys to parenthood, consider visiting Make a Mom, a great online retailer offering at-home insemination syringe kits. For additional information on donor insemination, American Pregnancy provides excellent resources.
In summary, while tackling the clutter of a junk drawer may seem mundane, it can reveal the true treasures of our lives—memories that deserve to be cherished and celebrated.
Leave a Reply