The Let It Go Jar
Finn is both my curly haired sage and the biggest gossip ever known to mankind. The other morning we were driving along and as is his wont, he was reporting the latest in primary school drama with all the moral outrage of a politician in the run up to an election.
I listened carefully, worked out the source of the problem and then asked him what he was going to do about it. He hummed. And he hahhed. And then as we sat at the traffic lights he turned to me and said, Mum, life is too short, so I’m going to stick it in the Let It Go Jar.
The Let It Go Jar I said? And he said yes, Miss Copplestone invented it. When there is something too silly, or too hopeless to worry your head about, you write it on a piece of paper, post it in a jar and let it go. And woosh, it doesn’t matter at all.
Readers, if, in that moment I could have stole just a pinch of his youthful optimism, I swear I would have done. Because it is time to let go of so much of what has gone before. To write a goodbye letter to someone who over the course of five years, took my trust and abused it to such a degree it almost broke me in two. To someone who from Monday evening, found himself paying for his blatant disregard of other peoples feelings in the most serious way our society is capable of inflicting. Though my natural instinct is to care. Too worry. Or even to sympathise, I know deep down inside that I have to let all this flippertjibbit emotion go. That this is a goodbye letter I have to file in Miss Coppelstone’s Let It Go Jar.
I need to let all his junk in the loft go so that my entire house is no longer stifled by the weight of his lies. I need to let little Alice the cat go, because it isn’t fair to keep her in the laundry room for so much of the day, as she is too scared to do permanent battle with Alfie the naughty puppy. I need to let go of my biggest fears: the fear of any kind of success. The fear of being truly loved again. Or of allowing myself to love again without this constant self-sabotage.
I need to let it all go and stop living so very, very scared. I need to let go and more than that I need to learn to let other people in…
Today I took Finley to the hospital and then went and watched him devour his very first gluten free hot-dog on a bun in Ed’s Diner with Helen and her gloriously silly babba, Clarry. Tomorrow Helen is begging to dye my hair a warmer shade of mahogany and I do believe I am going to let her because life is too short to worry about a very temporary matter like a wash-out hair colour! Over the weekend the entire family is coming over to help me sort out the incredible chaos that is Finley’s bedroom (ultimate makeover/done in a day style!) and on Monday I will sit down with both Helen and Dad to brainstorm a way forward for BrocanteHome…
You see I can’t carry on believing I can do everything myself. I have to let it go.
Dear Miss Copplestone, is it ok if I borrow your Let It Go jar? I do believe I could stuff it full of all my yesterdays.