Sunday Scribblings (In the last Hour): The Attic

In the last hour, I have been sitting in my parent’s attic. My children and I came to their house to visit this weekend so that they could help decorate my parent’s house for Christmas. My mother loves Christmas and displays a tree in every single room (yes, even the bathrooms). Tonight, my son asked me to join him in the attic in search of one last box of ornaments. OK, no problem. I’ll go up there, help him locate it and go back downstairs. But when I actually got up to the attic, I was pulled in by all of the boxes neatly stacked with so many of my childhood memories. How could I not sit down and start sifting through the pieces of my past? As I sat there, the very smell of the attic flooded me with warm memories of days when life was simpler and there were no worries of the future.

My parent’s house is the one place where I can come to feel safe, whole and loved. The attic of my childhood is a very special place indeed. I’ve had several dreams in the past year or so that involved being in an attic. In dreams, an attic symbolizes the highest place of our “emotional house”. Interesting really, considering that I’ve been trying to figure out my life and it’s purpose for quite some time now. I love symbolism and find it ironic that all the phases of my life are neatly compartmentalized in nice boxes to be brought out every now and then when needed.

Being in the attic tonight was also a bit sad. As a divorced adult with 2 young children, I am not “living the dream” of the traditional family unit. The house that we live in is really just “borrowed” for the time being and has never truly felt like my home. I wish that I could provide an attic for my children where they could go 20 years from now to dig through our memories. I’m not alone in this though. Close friends are also going through divorce and finding themselves in the same predicaments. With the divorce rate climbing over 50 percent, there are others who feel as though their homes and hearts and dreams have been displaced and scattered to the winds. Even a few of the married people I know are confiding that they have secrets in their attics that no outsider ever sees. This is part of the day and age that we live in. My parents recently celebrated 50 years of marriage. I’m in awe of that.

I finally put the lids back on the boxes tonight and left the attic. I'm grateful for this space that is my touchstone to reconnect with the safety I felt as a child. But now it's time to gather some new memories and new boxes and chart some new maps with my children. I turned off the lights and let the dust start to gather again. I came downstairs and snuggled with my kids. With all of the uncertainties that life has brought me, I know for sure that the love and bond I have with my children will always keep us together……even if it’s not the attic of my childhood.