On letting go

Madeleine lost her first tooth this weekend. We knew it was coming; when we last went to the dentist, he pointed it out as loose. It finally made it all the way out when she was brushing her teeth on Saturday night.
Did she panic? Cry? Not a tear. "It didn't even hurt! I wonder what the Tooth Fairy will bring me?" she said excitedly. It's surprising she got to sleep.
Now, this was part of her body. She doesn't remember life without it. Sure, it's a small part and she'll grow a new one, but it still was physically part of her. She bid it adieu without regret for she knew not what.

I, on the other hand, don't let go quite so easily. I still have most of the clothes I bought in preparation for my student teaching--in 1993. Including the "interview suit." I don't remember wearing it during the last two years of teaching, let alone since then. I pulled the skirt out for church occasionally but not in a long time. But I'm still having a hard time letting it go.
I know it's probably a decade out of style. I know it probably doesn't fit right anymore (I've gotten down to pre-baby weight each time, but shape is another matter).
Still it hangs in my closet, along with most of its cohort. I don't anticipate returning to work and I really don't see myself wearing those clothes. I dread moving them to another house, only to put them in another closet for more undisturbed years. But still they linger, cluttering up my closet, crowding out the things I do wear.

I wonder how many other things, years old, I'm holding on to that are just taking up space in my mental closet. Old apologies that were never said aloud, sins long since absolved, goodbyes that were simply implied instead of stated. All of that energy going there instead of loving my husband and children, taking care of these wonderful gifts.

One of the most painful breakups I ever went through was right around Independence Day. We'd been together for two years and, instead of actually breaking up, he just took a job across the country and didn't contact me about where and when. The timing seemed coincidental at the time, but now it seems more Providential.
I think I'm ready to let go of the suit, and the other clothes, with as many regrets as Madeleine has about her tooth.