The Unexpected Joys of the Big Purge

I went into my deep‑clean purge with the enthusiasm of someone headed to a dental appointment. I knew it needed to be done — less clutter, fewer piles, and the comforting knowledge that my child wouldn’t one day be stuck sorting through every last bit of my accumulated “treasures.” There’s also the satisfaction of donating things that still have life left in them, or maybe even making a little garage‑sale money if you’re feeling ambitious.

Those are the obvious perks.

But what I didn’t expect were the other benefits — the ones that felt like little surprises tucked inside the mess.

One of the biggest was the sheer relief of letting go of things I once thought I’d never be able to part with. I didn’t toss everything, of course. I kept the mementos and trinkets that still tugged at me, the pieces that felt stitched to my story in a way I wasn’t ready to release. But once I made the decision to let certain things go, a calm settled over me. A quiet, steady peace I didn’t even know I needed.

And then came the reminiscing — the fun part I never saw coming.

I stumbled across my Girl Scout badges from Troop 214. Old sorority photos and memorabilia. Newspaper clippings. The orange pompoms I wore on my roller skates at the Skate Inn. Little pieces of my childhood and early adulthood that I hadn’t thought about in years.

But then I found the treasure — the one that made my heart swell.

A handwritten manuscript, followed by a typed (yes, typewriter typed) children’s book series written by my mom. She had given it to me years ago, long before the internet, long before Amazon made publishing accessible to anyone with a keyboard and a dream. She had sketched illustrations, written her own mock reviews — something I would absolutely do — and poured her imagination onto those pages.

And there it was in my hands: her handwriting. Her creativity. A piece of her that her dementia can’t erase.

Holding that felt like holding her.

I guess this is where my love of writing comes from.

So even though I dreaded the big purge, I’m grateful I did it. Not just for the space it created, but for the memories it returned to me — the forgotten pieces of my life, and hers, that I get to hold a little tighter now.

Sometimes cleaning out a box, a closet, or a garage isn’t just about getting rid of things. Sometimes it’s about finding yourself again.