I have had the same hamper for as long as I can remember. The same large wicker basket has held my dirty clothes since childhood, and it has finally started to show some wear. I held it together as long as I could and finally realized I needed to take it to an expert.
As large as the basket is, it’s lighter than air, so it was surprisingly easy to get it out of the house today and carry it into a repair shop. The folks at the shop called the owner to describe my hamper, and after about 15 minutes they were ready to describe the repair process, and give me a quote: $200.
I would have been willing to pay more than standard hamper price to repair my old one, but that price was too steep even for my sentimental heart. I told the woman “well my mom gave it to me, but she’s still alive, so I guess she can buy me another hamper.”
Of course, I called my mother. She couldn’t remember where the hamper came from but assured me it wasn’t an heirloom. Still, we went around and around over this cheap old hamper, nearly as old as I am, getting ourselves to a point where we could let it go. Finally she said “oh well…thanks for the memories” and then added “take a picture“.
I feel guilty even as I write, knowing something that has been with me for so long is sitting out on the curb all by itself. I’m sorry, dear hamper, that I couldn’t keep you longer. I’m sorry that I don’t have enough money to keep everything I love perfect. I’m sorry that in learning to let go I have had to put my money where my mouth – and my laundry – is.