"slightly sinister postcards"

Koozies from a third-cousin’s wedding. A shoebox full of novelty pencils with inefficient erasers collected from birthday party treat bags and church carnivals. Yellowed copies of newspaper clippings of University News features articles, circa 1997. The Christmas wreath painting made with a three-year-olds footprints.

These are the possessions that keep me up at night, fueling my fears I am on my way to becoming a hoarder.

Enter the cautionary tale. The House We Grew Up In by Lisa Jewell centers around the home of Lorelei Bird. Lorelei loves Easter, her four children, and every scrap of shiny paper produced by either. As each child moves away, his or her room becomes not only a shrine but a room-sized storage bin for thrift store finds and bulk items bought on sale. Eventually, as she ages, her piles and stacks grow, leaving only a small space for a laptop and an armchair. 

After she dies, her daughter Meg arrives to sort through the mess. Hidden beneath the kindergarten paintings and Easter candy wrappers are the various threads of the story that pulled the family apart. Slowly, through this process of purging, Meg is able to reconnect with the estranged members of her family. Together, they not only clean out the house, but air its dusty corners. 

So will the koozies make the cut in our upcoming move? Ask my daughter in forty years.