He makes me smile every day

When I opened the 20th dusty box that had lived in my crawlspace for years, I burst out laughing. And then I hugged him. I had found Teddy Growler, my constant companion for my first seven or so years. He had the belly scar from a kitchen table operation, and the crooked corduroy patches I stitched on his worn feet.

Teddy now lives in our walk-in wardrobe, along with my husband’s childhood companion, Wix, who also wears his bald patches from so much loving with pride. We see them every day, and they make us smile.

I think of organizing as a treasure hunt, for all those things that tell the story of our lives.

When I look up from my keyboard in my home office, I see the oval amber paperweight that sat on my parent’s credenza and reminds me of my mother’s passion for mailing the completed Financial Times prize crossword every week (she won so many times they banned her).

There’s an elf slipper tree ornament that brings back long-ago Christmas shopping in a Cotswold town. And a piece of stone my husband’s father claimed came from the Leaning Tower of Pisa, brought home after World War II. All small items that carry whispers of other lives and times, just sitting out chatting in my study.

Each of these items has, at different times, been shoved into a tote or cardboard box in the crawlspace, basement, or storage unit. And would have stayed there if I hadn’t summoned the will to open the boxes and find the treasures. It can take a while because of all the memories that fall out, along with the musty papers and dried-up ballpoint pens. But now I have Teddy Growler - and he makes me smile every day.