A place in History

Two things dominated this weekend:
The Royal Wedding

Cleaning my boudoir

I’d been working so hard on cleaning my boudoir, which is the third bedroom in my little home. I have boxes and boxes of notebooks, and papers and photographs that I had to move in order to paint the walls. The walls had been patched because of having the electrical redone.

So, I had to move them all to paint behind them. And when it came time to put them back, I realized that quite a lot of it could be tossed.

On Friday night, Chris asked me if I was going to watch the royal wedding. I said I didn’t know anything about it. He caught me up on who was marrying whom, and I suddenly realized I knew Rachel, because I had watched Suits for a while.

How cool is that!

So Saturday, as I was staring in dismay at my boxes of everything, I turned on the royal wedding. I was thinking it was good background TV while I sorted through all these things.

I am a notebook person. I had saved all these notes, with anything from grocery lists, to year plans (a LOT of year plans) and the occasional gorgeous poem and short story.

It was for those poems and stories that I never threw the notebooks away.

But there were other papers.

That one time that I was considering suing an employer and had gathered evidence.

Or the notes from a relationship gone bad.

But this WEDDING! The pomp and circumstance that had to be part of a historied monarchy.


To me, it felt incredibly homey. The young bridesmaids and pages, holding the train and following the American soon-to-be Princess through the church.

With the brothers sitting next to each other, waiting for the bride to show up. YES, they are princes. But they were also two brothers who love each other and support each other.

There were all the elements of exactly every ordinary wedding I’ve ever seen. The dress, the little bit of drama. The nervousness, and the absolutely love and support from all the people attending.

I couldn’t tear myself away. Or stop googling all the details.

And, that’s kinda what happens at a family wedding, too. When and aunt or a cousin catches me up on the details of everything that I didn’t know.

What does this have to do with my notebooks?


As I look through all my notebooks, I have to wonder. Do these things matter to anyone else but me?

In that light, it was easy to toss the history of things that had caused pain. The bad job reviews, the old painful relationships.

And as I thought about the rest of these historical artifacts, I wondered who would actually care about all of them.

I flipped through. I remembered and the feelings rushed over me.

Boy, I’m glad I am living the life I am living.

I’m pretty happy with my choices.

Maybe the point of saving all these STUFF was for me to get the value out of reviewing it this time.

It’s easy to toss some of it out. Others are harder.

Like, I wanted to keep some of these things to prove something. That I was RIGHT, or that I DESERVED BETTER.


Watching all those people in the wedding, and feeling what I felt about it (as a stranger, whose only¬† connection to these people is a shared humanity), I came to the realization that I didn’t need to prove any of that to the people who might read this stuff.

They were family and they already loved me.

I didn’t need to prove I was worthy.

There’s a place for me at this table. So the history that gets in the way of that can be dropped.

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