On a mild March Sunday, my partner and I embarked on a mission to declutter our garage and patio, preparing for our son’s upcoming 10th birthday celebration. We had decided on a Nerf-themed party, inspired by a friend’s event a few months prior. While not my first choice for a party theme, it served as the perfect motivation for some much-needed spring cleaning.
Our garage had gradually spilled over to the patio, and living in a compact home of just under 1,000 square feet in Oregon with three kids made organization a challenge. Despite moving between three different states throughout our marriage, we had developed an unfortunate habit of lugging around the same boxes of items, never truly parting with anything.
I wouldn’t classify us as hoarders, but we certainly struggled to let go of our ’90s memorabilia. As we sifted through boxes, my partner, Jamie, unearthed a collection of her old prom dresses. She excitedly pulled out a baby blue gown with puffy shoulders and a black dress adorned with sparkly buttons, reminiscing about her high school memories—who she attended prom with and how beautiful she felt.
I found it hard to connect with her nostalgia. Unlike Jamie, I had skipped my proms, too busy rebelling against the norm. We soon stumbled upon my old Army jacket, a relic from my teenage years, decorated with punk band patches and a hint of dried blood from my skin-care battles. Now in my mid-30s, with children and a career, I realized that I would never wear that jacket in public again. But as I slipped it on, I caught a glimpse of my rebellious youth, and for a fleeting moment, I felt invincible.
I had repeated this ritual over the years, donning the jacket to relive my younger days before ultimately returning it to storage. That feeling of nostalgia was why I had clung to it for over 15 years, along with my old snowboards and beanies featuring band logos. They served no practical purpose, but they reminded me of a carefree past.
As Jamie held up her dresses, contemplating their fate, I couldn’t help but notice how we both appeared to be adults yearning to relive our youth. It was as if we were stuck in a time capsule, reminiscent of that one guy from the ’90s who clung to his mullet and cranked up White Snake while cruising in a rusty Camaro.
“We need to let this stuff go,” I said firmly. “We’ve been dragging it along for years, even storing it at your parents’ house. It’s time to move on.”
Jamie hesitated, holding onto a purple dress. “But what if our daughter wants to wear it to prom?” she countered. I chuckled at the thought. “I doubt Norah will want your ’90s prom dresses. Just like Tristan won’t be sporting my punk jacket on his first day of high school. Half those bands are long gone. We really need to move forward.”
I could see the logic in my words resonating with Jamie, but she was still reluctant to part with pieces of her past. This encapsulates a lesser-discussed aspect of adulthood. Yes, there are milestones like raising children, purchasing a home, and completing education, but there’s also the acceptance of practicality—like trading in youthful attire for work slacks and polo shirts. It might mean buying a minivan that screams “responsible adult,” even if it feels like a step away from the carefree days of youth.
Ultimately, my jacket, along with my vintage snowboards and T-shirts, found its way into boxes for donation, along with some of Jamie’s dresses. She managed to keep two dresses for our daughters to use as dress-up, but I suspect it was more about sentimentality than practicality.
We drove to the Goodwill donation trailer nearby, where I watched two elderly volunteers handle our belongings as if they were just items, devoid of the memories they represented. Though I’m not usually one to get sentimental, it stung a bit to see those pieces of our past head off into the world.
Yet, as a father in my mid-30s, it was worth the sacrifice for the sake of a tidy garage.
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Summary
Adulthood often entails letting go of cherished items from our youth. While cleaning out our garage, my partner Jamie and I confronted our nostalgic attachments to ’90s memorabilia, from prom dresses to punk jackets. Ultimately, we realized that embracing adulthood sometimes means parting with those relics, allowing us to focus on our current responsibilities and roles.
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