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Dusting is such a mind-numbing tedious task. Something I, a long with many others dread.
Out of all the things in the world to do this one just doesn’t pull rank. It is too time consuming to ever take precedence over getting other chores done.
But yet I find myself feeling guilt when I let it go and I succumb to this duty every few weeks.
When I actually have the gumption to get started, I remember how soothing it can be.
To actually slow down enough and do a thorough job of picking up each trinket, nick knack and picture actually triggers so many thoughts and memories. Seeing the little porcelain doll bells from different parts of the country that my grandma ordered from Fingerhut decades ago, that I insisted on having when we moved her into assisting living knowing she would never get to display them again.
Remembering the fascination I had with them when I was little and realizing that is why so many of them are super glued and/or missing their bell.
Picking up the jewelry box off the dresser remembering it was a gift from my mom like so many objects sitting throughout my home that have been gifted to me.
As I dust the picture frames of many of my sons pictures I remember when he was little and how sweet he was and so many adventures we have had. Then I get to the current picture of him looking so broad and less like a boy and more like a man with his shadow of a mustache and his signature haircut he insist on keeping, and wonder how did we get here so fast!
Then a startling realization comes to mind that in another 10 years or so I will be dusting my daughters picture of her being a preteen and wonder the same thing. And it just feels so crazy! What will she look like, who will she be, what will she do?
I am overwhelmed by this feeling of letting my mind propel me this far in time, it leaves my head spinning and a sadness overtakes me as I realize that is truly how fast time goes.
As I pull myself back into reality to realize that I still have my baby and I need to be present everyday, to make it last, to slow down and cherish all these treasures. I know one day the things I dust will be from people no longer here, places that no longer exist, and pictures that are fading.
Everything we own has a story.
It tells who loves us and who has loved us, where we have been in our lives and what we treasure. And maybe we should slow down enough to “dust”.