It all started with the
twist and pop of the cap. The familiar
and memory-inducing scent escaped that old can, and the memories flooded
in. The snapshots became visible in my
brain. As I poured the thick liquid onto the soft, white cloth, more scenes
from my childhood started playing on the movie screen that is always open for
business in my head.
“Unlike the other senses,
olfactory nerves go to two destinations in our brain; one is the frontal
cortex, where we consciously recognize a scent. The second destination is the
limbic area of the brain, which is a more primitive and ancient part of the
brain dealing with emotion, motivation and types of memory.” Dr. Maggie Grotzinger.
We’ve all experienced it. It
could be a flower, a food, a perfume, any one of thousands of smells that bring
a memory into our heads and transport us back to that place, sometimes good and
sometimes bad. Today, that smell for me was Brasso. Oh yes, Brasso was a big smell in my house as
a child. My dad liked shiny things. He
was always shining something up with the Brasso. Here is the short list - barber chairs,
spittoons, car bumpers, knobs and handles, old fire extinguishers, and the potbelly
stove. The potbelly stove. That’s what I
intended to write about initially, or maybe it was the power of our sense of smell - oh well. My
mind is like the pachinko machine we used to have, little chrome balls bouncing from here to
there and back again. Did he polish those little balls too? Not that I remember, but I can see it
happening. Anyways, back to the potbelly stove; that beautiful piece of décor
that has adorned my dining room for well over 30 years that brings back so many
great memories….
I’m selling it.
Yes, you read
correctly. I’m selling it. But I just
wrote all those great things about the memories and happy times. It fits my dining room like a glove and is a
topic of conversation and beauty in the house. I’m selling it.
I appreciate it, I don’t
love it. It has served its purpose and
the time has come for it to move to a house where the new owner loves it.
Before my dad passed away,
he did his best to help ease what he knew was going to be the hardest part of
my life. He lived here during his last six months and we had a lot of great
conversations. Knowing he was leaving me
with a mess of things, he talked a lot about my being able to let go and get
rid of the things that belonged to him and my mom. I listened of course, I always listened to
what he had to say, but carrying through has been a whole other story.
Nearly seven years later,
I still have a mess of things. I’m doing better with letting go, but it has
taken me a very long time. Enter – the
potbelly stove. I kind of remember when we got it. I was maybe 10? 12? 15? Not
sure. I also kind of remember that he
asked me to “go in on it” with him. Now I’m not really sure why. I’m guessing it was some sort of lesson in
investing or partnership or something, or maybe he just didn’t have enough
money. There is no way to ever find
out. So, one way or another, either
through inheritance, because it was left here when they moved out in 1991, or I
am the proud half-owner, the potbelly stove is mine, and I am ready to let it
go.
I’m starting to let more
and more things go. Things my parents
love, collected, and used. Some are beautiful
and have some monetary worth and some are simply just crap and I have no idea
why I have continued to hang on to them.
But, it doesn’t really seem to matter which group the items are in, it
is still difficult to let them go.
I’m grateful for my time
with the old stove. I have my memories of smell and mental snapshots. Those I
carry with me. As my collection of
material items becomes smaller, my mind and heart become more full. I welcome the trade-off.
Want to buy a potbelly
stove?
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