Spring is the time to declutter, but sentimental items stand in the way of successful spring cleaning.

I once outfitted a friend, head to toe, in a cowgirl ensemble for a rootin’ tootin’ speech she was giving. Somehow, I had the complete costume in my closet, hanging beside my regular clothes. I guess I kept the dated fringed shirt, denim skirt and cowboy boots anticipating a fashion return of the Dale Evans look. My closet resembles that magical, bottomless bag Mary Poppins. The bag where she pulled out an umbrella, a small tree and all manner of objects to the wonderment of observers.

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Each year when the dogwoods bloom, I consider embarking on the time-honored tradition of spring cleaning. I vow to weed out not only my overstuffed closet but my entire cluttered house. Invariably, crammed cabinets, closets and curios overwhelm this pack rat. In addition to questionable fashion attire, letting go of anything that holds sentimental value proves especially difficult.

Sentimental Stalls

That’s why I still have a framed twin birth announcement while our “babies” are 28 now. It’s also why I have my grandfather’s small tin percolating coffee pot. Plus, the pot still has the glass percolator top! I also treasure my deceased brother’s engraved silver baby spoon, tarnished black but loved nonetheless. And then there are the awards, collected over a lifetime, those of my own and those of my family members. I have a collection of brass plaques, framed certificates, and statuettes, including two on polished wooden blocks with protruding brass corn plants. Plus a clear pyramid with engraved words of praise. You’ll also find a Mickey Mouse wizard holding a crystal ball. Not to mention the innumerable Little League trophies earned by my children.

Photo credit: iStock/Hidesy

My sisters have already downsized. “Do you want this four-poster bed?” one asked as she ruthlessly discarded family heirlooms. She might be sentimental, but physics ruled her decisions about what to keep and what to discard. “What has really motivated me is knowing that I am going into a house half this size,” she shrugged as she sorted with abandon.

“Out with the old, in with the new,” my other sister declared when she moved from a three-bedroom house to a condo. Meanwhile, I congratulated myself when I got rid of a bread maker I hadn’t used in years. Several downsizing couples told me they visualized where their possessions would fit in a much smaller home and discarded the rest before they moved.

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Another recalled hearing about sneaky parents who, with no forewarning, purged by leaving items like a gigantic china cabinet at their married child’s home. Since neither of my adult children have shown any desire to inherit our furniture, dishes or collections, I am fairly certain they don’t want us ninja-dropping vinyl albums and Madame Alexander dolls on their front porches in the dead of night.

Spring Cleaning Road Blocks

Books are a separate and even bigger problem. I have finally reached the point where I can rid myself of books I’ve read and books I don’t think I’ll ever read and most of the cookbooks – who am I kidding with those? But then, I’m always bringing in more books I can’t resist.

The sentimental factor of “oh, the kids made that,” plays havoc on my spring cleaning. I remind myself that my loved ones will not care to wade through reams of kindergarten artwork after I’m gone. Even cleaning out my home office has proven to conjure unexpected bouts of emotion, like my deceased father’s last note to me, my son’s paper about family or my daughter’s writing on how she found the divine in a church practice session.

“You really can’t take it with you,” said one friend after she cleaned out the homes of her parents and a brother.

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This spring, I plan to keep that in mind as I root through my messy mayhem. I think it might help to think of my neat-as-a-pin grandmother and her daily ritual of cleanliness. Armed with a sturdy broom, every morning Gabby would apply rhythmic strokes to the haint blue painted floor of her front porch. I will take inspiration from the memory of that reassuring, comforting daily pattern. Conjuring her image, I will remember how calmly and simply she set her world straight each day, making sure her front porch was as clean and welcoming as her immaculate house.

About the Author: After almost 20 years as a Southern Living and Progressive Farmer magazine editor, Nancy Dorman-Hickson now freelances. She is a contributor in an anthology titled All Night, All Day: Life, Death and Angels, edited by Susan Cushman (Madville Publishing, June 2023).