Tidying in Uncertain Times: Part 3, Letting Go

Some people have compared this time we are in to the weeks and months following the birth of a child. The way that schedules have been upended, the constant vigilance, the weirdness of leaving the house takes me back. Early on in maternity leave, I realized that reading books to my son was something we both needed. Books added joy and love to our routines, made me feel like I was becoming a mother like my own, who had instilled in me a love of reading. They kept me from losing my mind.

Long ago my son lost interest in these books, preferring Dr. Seuss or Pete the Cat now. I narrowed the baby books down to the ones that were in heavy rotation (pictured here) and kept them on a shelf in his room as decoration until I could let them go. Sentimental is the last category in the KonMari for a reason. Items like these represent a period in time that was sweet, difficult and over. Letting go of them is not just freeing up space on a shelf.

When I saw a recent post in a moms’ group asking for donations for an international student’s family, I felt ready to let them go. Until recently, my career was focused on educational exchanges, specifically international graduate students in the U.S., so it was easy to let them go knowing where they would go. The books would land in the next right place.

Taking the photo helped. Scott Sonenshein, co-author with Marie Kondo of the new book, Joy at Work, shared this tip of taking a photo of a sentimental item before letting it go. It works and is backed by research.

Oh I loved them all. “Everywhere Babies” and “Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes” featured babies from around the world. All the Taro Gomi books, so bright and cheery. I had memorized “Giraffes Can’t Dance.” “Little Blue Truck” I bought well before I knew I was having him and had stored it away for years.

There was one I knew I’d keep, “Little Owl’s Night” by Divya Srinivasan. The last few pages always felt like magic. Spoiler alert- here are the last few pages. The little owl asks his mom to tell him again how night ends.

“The moon and stars fade to ghosts,” Mama said. “Spiderwebs turn to silver threads. Dewdrops sparkle on leaves and grass like tiny stars come down. Moonflowers close and morning glories open. The sky brightens from black to blue,

blue to red,

red to gold.”

The beauty of the night turning into day feels like a comforting way to think about change.