Mid purge of my linen closet this week, I reminded myself to be brutal. This was, after all, my 2nd purge of the same linen closet in less than a year. So I asked myself all the things I knew I should: Had I used that pillow in the last 6 months? Did that blanket bring me joy? Do I have room for those sheets? Why am I keeping the towel? I knew the answer before I asked the questions. If I had to contemplate, I didn’t need the thing, whatever it was.
Now a lifetime ago, my best friend and I owned a business making baby blankets. Our oldest kids got the prototypes and our younger kids got the newest versions. Our business cards gently boasted that we made personalized, knitted baby blankets, and nothing less.
Fast forward 30 years and my kids are grown men. My best friend has gone on to heaven. Her children have become most precious young women. Boy or girl, everyone still has at least one personalized, knitted baby blanket.
When a coward faces a purge a good option is to let someone else decide. So I brilliantly sent my kids separate text messages asking if they would a) cry or b) applaud if I disposed of their baby blankets. I was positive they’d give me courage to say goodbye to the knit and perl and shell stitches, the blocking and basting too.
But the answers from my sons were shocking in the best way imaginable. The word “cry” came immediately from the younger followed by 20 crying emojis from the oldest.
Obviously, the blankets have survived the great purge of 2018. And my linen closet holds, for at least a while longer; personalized, knitted memories that we aren’t willing to part with.