Letting Go

In the midst of moving, some decisions have to be made, the whole "what to keep and what to get rid of" quandary. One of the items I've been thinking about is a rabbit fur camel. (Not terribly PC, but it is what it is.) An odd item, I know. But one year, I remember it to be my 12th birthday (although that could be debatable my memory being what it is). My mom missed the blessed day (for some reason that I can't recall) and brought me this camel home for my present.

This was in the days of actual in-flight service. She brought it onboard and the stewardesses tucked it away in their little cupboard. I was amazed and awed and in love.

I used to sit on the thing, between the humps, and pretend to ride (that red thing is a harness and at one point looped up over his head with reins for me to grasp).

I used to rub my face against the lush fur.

We used to joke about him being a well-endowed camel.

I moved it south with me when I married and from house to house every time Rob and I moved. It has lived next to my bed for the last several years. But I just can't justify paying the money to move him north. I barely let my kids touch him as his fur is rubbing off.

I know. It's a silly thing to worry about but it was a gift from my madre. I have to consciously tell myself that it's just a thing and that letting go of a thing doesn't mean letting go of my mother or my memories.

And so I have moved it into our garage sale pile and I can only hope some happy child (dare I hope girl?) gets a new rabbit fur camel to love.