04/17/2025
A poignant essay on how one woman keeps a few cherished family items. I understand the emotions that come into play by looking and reminiscing about a family member’s “story”. I say that as I look at my father‘s pipe. (All my siblings and each of my sons have just one.)😊What do you think of this article?
Annie Midori Atherton doesn’t love the look of mismatched junk, but the mess satisfies a deeper emotional need, she wrote in 2023. https://theatln.tc/IJchcKN3
“Cramming our spaces with painful tokens from the past can seem wrong,” Atherton continues. But “when I reflect on the most memorable periods of my life, they’re not completely devoid of sadness; sorrow and disappointment often linger close by joy and belonging, giving the latter their weight. I want my home to reflect this nuance … Not only is clearing our spaces of all signs of grief impossible to sustain, but if every room is scrubbed of all suffering, it will also be scrubbed of its depth.”
During one of Atherton’s last visits to her father, he gave her an antique wooden high chair from his childhood home. “The thought that my dad, who looked taller than usual reclined in bed, had once sat in this tiny chair was baffling. We took it home for my daughter, who had just started eating solid foods. Several days later, my dad was gone. The high chair was still there,” Atherton continues.
“Most of my relations, my father included, did not lead particularly big lives. Their names are not carved into buildings or attached to scholarships. Only a handful of people think of them still, and one of those people is me. But their personal possessions remain and say: Someone was here. As I go about my day, folding laundry, or thinking through what needs to be done, my clutter reminds me of the people who have filled my life and, now, my apartment.”
Read more: https://theatln.tc/IJchcKN3
📸: Meron Menghistab for The Atlantic