Discoveries in the attic
July 13, 2006 at 4:16 Summer delivers the type of leisure that allows me to tackle the projects I put off during the school year—like sifting through and straightening the contents of the spare room in the attic, which we use for storage.
Before we moved, I’d stocked up on some basic clothing items for my kids. What I thought would be a two-year supply of socks and underwear all went into my children’s dresser drawers in the first year. My son grew so dramatically that some of the trousers, shorts, and shoes I’d purchased and set aside for him were never worn—he grew past them, not into them!
There are toys that need new homes: tea sets, helicopters, pretend food, a McDonald’s play set, a mini veterinary clinic, doll strollers, puzzles, and crayons. I stack them up to take them to the basement, the launching post for charitable donations.
My kids play with toys less and less—they still love dolls and stuffed animals and tinker with building sets, but mostly they pass their time with outdoor games, arts and crafts, books, and the computer. It’s a relief to witness the number of toys in the house dwindling, but it’s also a bit sad to see my children leaving that part of childhood behind. When we return to the U.S., there will be far fewer play things to store in the family room cabinets—my son will be almost 13, my daughter nearly 11.
The spare wardrobe contains clothes I haven’t worn since moving here, many no longer fit and others represent a professional life which is now on hold. Some just don’t suit the climate and fashion here. I stare at them wistfully, wondering if I’ll ever lose the weight I’ve piled on in Belgium and get to wear my skinny skirts, my little black dress, my sundresses, and my business pantsuits again. Will I return to my former self physically and mentally or will I ditch them and start over when I repatriate? New life. New me. New clothes.
There’s a big plastic box full of assorted toiletries from the U.S—skincare products, various body scrubs, shampoos, conditioners, toothpaste, sunscreen, lotions, deodorants, toothbrushes, razors. Somewhere along the way in the months preceding our move, some well intentioned expat writer had suggested I stockpile favorite things from home. I’m not sure why I didn’t question this advice and followed it a bit too well. I guess all this squirreling away reflects an attempt to keep life “normal” in a foreign environment. In retrospect I think stockpiling products reflects equal amounts of practicality and anxiety, an odd mix of desiring to “be prepared” and also hang onto the past.
Underneath the slope of the eaves are boxes of artwork I brought with me—mostly favorite paintings and prints that I envisioned transforming my Belgian home into something personal and familiar. After we settled in our house, each painting and print was unpacked, unwrapped, studied--and packed away again. My home has many huge windows, radiators, brick walls, and slanted ceilings. I couldn’t find a place to hang most of what I brought and I was nervous about desecrating the plaster walls with nail holes. Now I don’t even remember exactly what lurks in those boxes. When I unpack them two years from now in the States, will the artwork still hold my heart or will it be donated to the next church white elephant sale? Will I still be the person who loved it in the first place?
Who knew tackling the storage room would unearth so much psychological as well as physical baggage?
It’s the place where the past, present, and future intersect and I suppose that makes it the perfect setting to reflect on my expat experiences and envision what life will be like when I eventually return to the U.S.
© 2006 Veronica McCabe Deschambault. All rights reserved.
July 13, 2006
Reader Comments (2)
Finally when we moved here...no boxes! That all changed when we sold our old house. The reason we had no boxes was because our tenant let us keep them in our attic in NY. So then I basically moved TWICE! Now...lots of damn boxes in the basement that will never be opened!