The Life We Once Knew

The Fools in The Trees

To me, objects are not the meaning of life, but they do hold memories. I don't need a house full of expensive items in order to be happy. I do need notebooks with signatures of all of my old friends in them, or the first gift Molly ever gave me. I keep memories in my head and reminders in the objects around me.

"Christ, Lia," Paul shook his head, "You're a natural born hoarder, you are."

I scoffed, "Am not. I only keep things that have sentimental value."

"A broken watch has sentimental value?"

He held up a pocket watch. It was old, the glass was cracked beyond repair, and a hand and a half were missing. The chain was rusted and nearly broken. I quickly snatched it from him and held it close to my heart, "It's the first gift Molly ever gave me."

Paul glanced at it and sighed, "Alright, that one has sentimental value. The rest of this doesn't."

He was determined to help me get rid of some of the 'useless clutter' as he put it. Really, he wanted me to get rid of things that dragged me down. Stuff that only added to my stress, especially things that reminded me of my grief.

We started with the upstairs closet. This flat had more closets than rooms, and I had managed to fill up each and every one of them. One was filled with nothing but instruments and music sheets, including Molly's first guitar and the case Janice used when she first joined Revolution. The closet Paul chose to start with was the one I called the junk closest. Anything that didn't have a place found itself in a bin tucked away in that closet. Stuff in there never got looked at. In reality, I could have gotten rid of that entire closet, but I have attachment issues. That's why Paul was there with three large trash bags, a cardboard box, and a whole lot of determination. 

"I don't see why we're cleaning out this closet," I muttered.

Paul pulled out a bin filled with various pins and crumbled papers, "Because, Lia, you need to get rid of some of the clutter in your life. It's only draggin' you down."

"Since when were you Mister Non-materialistic?"

"Since I opened your closet door and got avalanched."

I rolled my eyes, "That never happened."

"It did! You were there!"

"Did not!"

Paul shook his head, "Nevertheless, we're getting rid of some of your clutter."

"Fine."

I crouched down next to him and pulled out a bin. It would be nice to have fewer things to clean and worry about. Clutter was a main source of stress and, while you couldn't see my clutter unless you knew where to look, I could feel it. Paul was right when he said I needed to get rid of it, but I just couldn't find the heart.

The bin I opened was filled with old books and record sleeves minus the record. Some of the books were ripped and taped only to be ripped again. I tossed the record sleeves and the broken books. The few that weren't broken found a place on the bookshelf where they rightfully belonged.

One book, in particular, caught my eye. Really, it wasn't a book at all, rather, a notebook. It was an old school composition notebook, one I had never taken notes in but saved for other uses. On the front was several stickers and doodles. Only half the doodles were mine. The rest were flowers, peace signs, and psychedelic colors that only Janice would draw. I even saw a big-headed creature signature only to John Lennon taking over the back cover. 

The first page nearly brought a tear to my eye. The title was 'Amelia's Songbook: 1959-1963'. It was signed by me, Paul, John, George, Stuart, Ringo, Janice, and Molly. Molly's signature was so close to mine, they were practically overlapping.