Beech Tree News Network

This week, I have been cleaning my house—the rooms that matter, anyway.  We’re having a reception for my daughter, Nikki, and her new husband, Thomas, next weekend.  My granddaughter, Sabria’s, toys have pretty much taken over the living room, so I decided they needed a new place to live.  You know how that goes, in order to clean up one space, you must first clean up another space to store what you want to move from the first space; then stuff in the second space has to be moved, so you’ve got to clean up a third space, yadda, yadda, yadda.  It’s maddening!
    I sent my daughter, Natalie, to consignment with one load, and on to Goodwill with another, but there was still more stuff than I had imaginative ways to store it.  I decided Sabria’s toys would be a nice fit for the sun room, which meant hauling out boxes of my glass bottles to be stored in my husband, Garey’s, shop.  His shop is my go-to place when I run out of my own space, because it’s huge and he’s used to maneuvering around his own stuff in there, so a few boxes of mine barely make a dent.  I already have two kilns and a couple of tables of to-be-continued glass projects set up down there.  (Garey is a generous soul—I would have kicked me out by now.)
    Sabria has been at her dad’s house this weekend while the toy transition has been going on.  Today, I’m going to take down her red Christmas tree that has lived in my small den for the past two years.  I have already removed the cardboard space ship and cardboard play house I made for her last year.  She is not going to be happy.  I will have to present my case for the improvements with the promise of something in exchange for her sacrifices.  I plan on getting her a small tent after the reception is over.  She has wanted one ever since she saw the episode of “Peppa Pig” where Pedro and the gang had a sleep-over in one.
    Sabria isn’t one to hold back if she isn’t pleased.  She’ll say something like, “Gee, that wasn’t right of you!”  She often turns my words back on me, “Gee, how would you like it if I took your stuff!” she might say.  She could even invoke the wrath of her grandfather on me, “Papa, you need to thump Gee’s head,” she will say if she’s really indignant, referring to the light flick of the thumb and finger Garey uses to get her attention.   When it’s all said and done, I’ll probably end up with my head thumped, but sacrifices have to be made.
    While cleaning yesterday, I found Nikki’s ocean.  She made it in elementary school.  I can’t remember whose class or what ingredients were used.  The contents are in a 2 liter soda bottle.  The color is the same azure blue, and the liquid still moves around inside to simulate ocean waves.  I’ve come across it from time to time during other cleaning episodes, but I can never bring myself to part with it.  For me, that bottle has always represented Nikki’s dream—a dream she realized.  I left it where it was, with the knowledge that someday, after I’m gone, she will find it and be as amazed as I am that a little girl’s dream, no matter how big, can come true.
    My body is sore from lifting, my brain is tired of making decisions about what to keep and what to discard, and still the task is not finished.  I have another week in front of me, but today, when Sabria gets back, I’m going to play.  I’m going to chase her around the yard then we’ll sword fight with sticks that have fallen from the maple tree, and I will push her in the swing.  She is a little girl with her own dreams that have yet to reveal themselves, and I don’t want to miss out. 
    One day, years from today, when I’m cleaning my house, I want to come across her “ocean.”  I have a feeling it will have something to do with the stars.  I guess, I’ll have to wait and see.