Memories For Sale

One final act of preparing for our little girl is to make some final transactions between Kole and his little sister, at least retroactively. This past weekend that included taking down all the Space Saver bags out of the attic with Kole's stuff in it and extracting the gender-neutral colored onesies, outfits, blankets, socks, bibs, teething toys, etc. ... anything and everything that we think would be best suited for our little princess that doesn't scream little boy.
The end result was bags full of stuff that we are now prepared to part with - via garage sale or donation. In its own way, it was a touching reminder of how much little Kole has grown so much in such a short amount of time. I mean it seems like he was just in these clothes, and now they're ready to be discarded.
As a photographic example: Exhibit A is a picture of all the bags that were retrieved from the attic.
Exhibit B is a photo of Kole from yesteryear. Moreover, it's a photo from March of 2009. The little guy was 9 months old and was as ticklish as can be. Sitting in Kathy's lap, I had a camera in one hand and was poking a finger in his ribs or on his neck with the other - snapping off shots the whole time. This shot was one of those shots that made a good run. The tongue, the cheeks, poor Maggie in the background. It got framed and got some good display time around the house for some time. It even became a screen saver on our computer for a good run, as I recall. The shot is iconic in its own way in our little world.
Exhibit C is a tight shot of that blue and orange "romper" from the previous photo, lifeless in its space saver bag. It's like a small piece of a memorable highlight in Kole's brief life is about to be discarded like another dirty diaper. It's strangely touching. It's not the sight of the laugh, which the photo will always preserve. Nor is it the sound of his hoarse, lispy giggle, which is still on the playlist of my brain TiVo and I access and play quite frequently. But, the little romper was part of the moment. And here now was that romper, along with a bunch of other rompers and onesies and blankets and moments and memories, ready to be priced at $2 and happily sold for $1 and never to be seen or heard from again.
I can throw my own clothes away and have the whole process just as soon give me jock itch than a tear in the eye. This coming from a pack rat who still has hung on to a high school letter jacket, Dallas Mavericks ball boy uniforms and other sentimental artifacts. I still haven't found a fondness for any piece of clothing worth hanging on to in my adult life. Then again, I don't have a particular fondness for clothing more than 10 years old anyways. Sort of like Mama Cass seeing a wardrobe full of Size 4s.
But this was Kole's stuff, and it's like he was just born last month, and this stuff was all part of the process. He only has so many memories to keep in his young life, and here's a big bag full of them.
I reckon this is all just part of the parental path of turning pages, time moving painfully forward, and letting fluid moments from the past set and fossilize in video, photos and memories.
It's definitely the biggest symbolic and metaphoric parting of ways with his infancy and toddlerhood to date, but I guess that's hard to cry over too much when really the task at hand is to get that kid to make poopies in a miniature shitter before his sister comes along. If he doesn't soon it will probably cushion the blow of cutting the first deal of Tres para cinco dolares.