Skeletons In My Closet

Image taken from Pinterest

Recently I started on a task that I've been putting off and dreading for a long time.

Cleaning out my closet.

It was long overdue, as I searched through the mass of hangers and mishmashed colours, I saw forgotten fabrics hanging in the gloom of the back of the wardrobe. Sorting through them was a long process and with 70% of them now gone and packed in bags ready for the charity shop, I felt calmer, lighter, refreshed.

But there was also a feeling I wasn't expecting: bittersweet.

These clothes, now discarded, have been on a journey with me. They've been there with me through the good and the bad. 

Just lightly touching the hem of a purple lace dress can transport me back to a candlelit dinner in Prague, the lights from the Charles Bridge shining softly through the window, mirrored by the glow of the candle in the centre of the table, the clinking of wine glasses. 

A green dress, now ill-fitting, evokes memories of laughter, cheesy music and dancefloor lights, shots of a green alcohol in my hand not dissimilar to the shade of the dress, teamed with heels that make my feet ache, that will soon be dangling from my hand as I walk barefoot home, greasy chips in my other hand, the sound of the music still ringing in my ears and the late night breeze making my hair flutter.

The grief as I touch a black outfit, one I wore on a night originally filled with promise but swiftly extinguished when I received news that my Grandmother had passed away, the same shade I'd wear two weeks later to say goodbye to her.

The heartbreak of shattered relationships, the celebrations of weddings, graduations, parties, the carefree nights out with friends, the places travelled, the thrilling anticipation of new love - all these memories cling to these clothes, experiences I've had while wearing them, experiences ingrained into the fabric.

Packing them away signifies the end of an era, a time of my life that will never be back again. Times that cannot be repeated, but will live on through memories. 

And now, light floods through the wardrobe, reflecting off the half-empty shiny silver railing, that's waiting to be filled with clothes that will experience new memories, a new chapter.