My Father The Anti-Hoarder (Story week!)

The following is a short memoir in honor of my Father since yesterday was Father's Day.

The only things that I have managed to salvage from the years before my age was in the double digits are thirty-seven Hot Wheels cars. When I first moved into my new bedroom I hid them at the very top of my closet to prevent ‘the monster’ from disposing of them. I’d learned from countless lost video games, VHS tapes, and toys that if they were not safely put away and preserved they would end up in the landfill overlooking Crossgates Mall.

I didn’t even realize the intensity of my father’s problem until he became obsessed with a show that was all over the television called Hoarders. When I was fifteen he told me “If I ever turn into that guy I would hope that you would put me out of my misery Charles.” He never did turn into that guy. He had, however, become the complete opposite of that guy years before. In the same way that my father quickly got rid of anything we didn’t touch for a couple days he was very hesitant to buy anything that would be of little use to us in the long run. “What do you need Yu-Gi-Oh cards for?” He’d say, “it’s not like you’re going to need them 10 years from now when you’re in college.”

If anything went missing My mother, sister and I would know exactly where it was… or at least who could find it.

“Dad where are my Roller Blades?” I asked desperately wanting to go to Guptils, a skating rink where me and my friends would hang out for hours.

“I threw those out weeks ago.”

The End