A Change of Seasons

Twice yearly, as a child, I recall pulling the rope attached to the retracting stairs that led to the garage attic. Climbing the stairs to the accompanying groan of the springs, I or my sisters, would crawl into that space between the roof and the ceiling and poke around for the many bags of clothes packed away the season before. If it was summer, there were fewer bags to locate, each of us with 1, maybe 1 and a half, bags filled with shorts and skirts and shirts and who knows what else. In winter, there were many more, loaded with bulky sweaters, long skirts, jeans and pants, long sleeved shirts and sweat shirts.

It was an all-day affair, beginning in the morning with the unloading of the closets as we put away the season's clothes. With the new season's clothing bags dropped unceremoniously from the attic to the floor below, the newly packed clothes were hoisted up and stuffed haphazzardly into the back of the attic.

And then we'd lug the bags into the house, into the living room where we unearthed the treasures we had packed away so many months before. Some were still beloved, some no longer used, and some about which we were indifferent. We tended to err on the side of caution and put very few items into the Good Will pile. Year after year, the old clothes, along with new acquisitions, made their way back and forth between house and garage. "I might wear it this year," was a common phrase, often referring to some item that hadn't seen the public eye in years.

Old habits die hard, though. Even after moving out of the house, I kept many items that were completely useless to me. "But I paid good money for that," I would think. And another overly frilly sweater that I thought looked beautiful in the store would sit in my closet collecting dust.

It took me a few years, but I finally made myself donate all of the clothes that I hadn't worn more than once or twice in the last year. I let go of favorite shirts and pants that were worn and faded. I threw out old shoes that were too scuffed and worn to call "shoes" anymore. And now, I'm down to a single 52 gallon tote of winter clothing, one of summer clothing and one of work-related clothing.

Occasionally, I succumb to the old mindset and keep an item that I'll never wear. But I don't let that happen often, and not for long. I keep my clothing simple and that makes me happier. My drawers, certainly, are much neater, and the whole process of changing seasons is simple.

Now, if only I could get Angie's clothes in to a single container. . .