Summertime, and the kids are home.

Libby, 16, said she was bored, so I asked her to help me clean out a closet.  Our game/art/school supplies closet received a good tidying a while back, but had returned to its natural, cluttered state. I guess I wasn’t decisive enough in getting rid of things during the last purge. Libby, however, does not have a problem with indecisiveness.

Sung to the traveling salesmen’s tune from “The Music Man”:

Gone, gone, GONE went the pencils that were sharpened down to nubbins.  GONE went the puzzles that were missing half the pieces. GONE are the glitter pens and old manila files.

What do ya talk? What do ya talk? What do ya talk?

Anyway, it’s true. She was a dynamo, recycling unusable papers, chucking broken ballpoint pens. I made some pitiful arguments on why we needed to keep certain items, but finally got out of the way and let her have at it.

Grabbing a large container of markers, I set about checking each pen’s usefulness on a sheet of scratch paper. I wasn’t paying too much attention to my own task, just watching Libby slinging items into the trash and recycle bins. Maybe if I’d been watching more closely, I would have seen that one of the markers was leaking, apparently one of the blue ones. Even when I did notice, I didn’t worry too much that my hands were turning blue. They’re all washable markers.

Watching this lively young lady, I felt tired, and nervous. Even as a teenager, I don’t think I ever had her energy and determination. Without the demands of a busy school schedule to direct her vigor and vim, she needed an outlet. My closet clutter felt the brisk discipline of a girl who is not inclined to fret over grubby erasers and frayed Pee Chee folders. It was both liberating and terrifying to see things go.

Libby held up boxes of math cards.

“Do we still need these?” she asked. No, we don’t.  There are no longer kids in our house who need to memorize their multiplication facts. Goodbye, flashcards! It’s been a good run, and I’ll miss you.

Also gone are torn notebook dividers, grimy note cards, dried up gel pens, mucky glitter glue, orphaned pen caps, broken crayons, ripped binders, broken rulers …

In answer to the question you are probably asking, why was I keeping all that? Because of Just In Case, You Never Know, and Waste Not, Want Not. Also, those broken rulers and crayons still worked, you know?

Libby also launched an attack on our Fun Doohickey box. This is where I store odds and ends that Jacob or Dirk might use for quick repairs, or robot building, depending on which one is in need.  Among the Fun Doohickeys are broken alarm clock parts, toy remnants, screws, washers, springs, and bits of string. Also, duct tape.  Libby asked if we could just change the box’s name to Garbage, and toss the whole lot of it. But no, of all the things I let Libby remove from the closet, the Fun Doohickey box remains intact.

That was my day.  Tonight I sit, a bit dazed. I’m glad Libby had a productive summer day, glad the closet is clean and organized. I won’t say it was easy. I know behind the white door in the next room there is order, and a reasonable number of pens and pencils. For some reason, though, it feels too soon to open the door and face it. Maybe tomorrow.  By then the garbage and recycling will be picked up, and the kids and I will take a load to Goodwill. I think I’ll wear blue, to match my hands. “Washable markers” is apparently an optimistic label.

I did happen to glance at the calendar, and saw Libby had added something for this coming Wednesday:  “Help Mom with coat/purse/hat closet.”

Deep breaths. I can do this.

— Read more Roundy at thetreesandi.blogspot.com.