Storage Room Funny

Funny thing about my storage room located in my basement. It can and does tell a visual history of my family. There are baby clothes in more than one of the boxes. My little girl’s dresses that would kill me if I had to part with them. Boxes of Barbies that I am sure will have value one day to a granddaughter. A box of clothes labeled… (I am not telling what size, but smaller than I am now). An old baseball case belonging to my thirty -something year old son containing that one in a million, spring centered bat which cost a small fortune 20 years ago. A stick horse belonging to my thirty - something year old daughter which may have sentimental value to her, or not. Old photos, old family genealogy, never used camping gear. My children’s unused belongings saved in faith and hope. My husband’s, mother’s, mother’s linen. Are you following me? Is that not a reason to laugh? My great grandmother’s tatting bedspread which must have taken most of her life to create and to be past down to the historical society in the unfinished part of my basement. The list could go back 50 or 100 years, or more. It’s funny that I can’t seem to part with any of those things. Funny still how my children can’t come over and get their stuff, take it to their homes and start their own family history storage room. It’s a funny thing in that I am willing to pass these things down, but just not toss them out.