My mother created it for me in the spring of 1971 – a hooked rug wall hanging, designed by my artistic cousin, Sally. It was a rendition of a primitive cave drawing, replete with hunters and some sort of bull-animal, in those popular 1970’s shades of orange, yellow, black and brown. We were actually all surprised by how well it came out, since my mom had never before made anything larger than a needlepoint pillow.

The wall hanging traveled with me throughout the years and served as a backdrop for a number of different decorating schemes. At some point, though, it took up residence in my attic, where it was just uncovered this week. And not looking too good, I’m afraid.

I must’ve wrapped it up when it was originally placed there, but years of dust, tossing things around, and the installation of central air conditioning had not been kind to my mother’s labor of love. It looks awful, and in spite of all my hard-earned wisdom and best organizational advice, I’m wallowing in guilt.

Yes, I know that it’s a hooked rug that I’ve accidentally allowed to deteriorate, and not a living being. But it hurts, viscerally. In many ways, that funny piece of art has become an extension of what I loved and miss most about her, and it tugs at the wound. I can hear her saying to me, “Sunny, you know that you can’t take it all with you.” I know that, yet this is the first time I’ve had to physically say goodbye to a major life stage, and the little girl in me definitely wants to take it all with her!

But, once again, I’m going to follow my mother’s good advice.

My friend, Karel, helped me to position the remains and take a nice digital photograph. (Fortunately, I have others, too, from when it hung on the wall in its brown and orange glory days.) And now I have to dispose of it. Those of you who’ve already had to part with treasures, for whatever reason, probably remember the process of saying goodbye and moving on. I’m on my way there, but at the moment I still have a foot in each world.

And for those readers who have not yet arrived at this point, some organizational words to the wise: If you are preserving items for future generations, make sure that they’re wrapped up well. Seriously, do invest in archival-type storage. Remember, too, that attics and basements are never the best choices for keeping valuable items because of temperature variations and possible moisture problems. And if there is loss or damage, keep in mind that things are just things. They may have aesthetic or financial or sentimental value, but rarely are they essential to your survival. Life is always a process of acquiring and letting go.

I’ll work through the guilt, because I know that my parents would never want me to be unhappy over a wall hanging. Or anything else, for that matter. If you’re going to haul stuff around with you, you might as well enjoy it right?

P.S. I still smile when I think of the person I know who took her yard dirt with her when she moved from one place to another. Know your priorities! ;-)

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“Guilt: the gift that keeps on giving.”

-- Erma Bombeck