I've been thinking a lot about possessions lately, things I've had or have, family treasures that I will pass on to my children, personal belongings that when found may make the finder shake his or her head in wonder.

It's funny how, as you get older, you remember more clearly some of the long-ago things you once had. Like the Lennon Sister paper cut-outs or Chatty Cathy doll I played with; or the pleasant sound my Pop Pearls made when I fashioned and refashioned them into necklaces and bracelets. One of my favorite childhood pieces of clothing was a yellow-flowered dress with a big twirly skirt that would spill onto the church pew whenever I knelt at Mass, a gesture I imagined to be quite glamorous.

In my mid-50s now, with a house full of possessions, I'm looking to decrease their numbers. Our older son, John, just bought a house, so on our last visit to Cleveland, where he lives, we hauled up several boxes of "things," a bed frame and area carpet we no longer use, a Mario Lemieux book from John's glory days in high school hockey, and knickknacks from the shelves of his bedroom, which I hope to transform into a new use this winter.

This past summer, my sister and I have been sorting through my mother's possessions, boxes of stuff that we somewhat hastily removed from her apartment after she suffered a debilitating stroke and moved into a nursing home more than four years ago. We stored her household goods and personal items — Great-grandma Kerber's dresser, clothing, pots and pans, handmade cards from her children, table linens, photograph albums, even her personal writings — in a back room of my brother's business until we could figure out what to do with them.

A lifetime of possessions reduced to a dozen or so boxes in a back room of my brother's warehouse, I thought sadly as my sister and I sorted through them recently, in preparation for distributing mom's personal items among the rest of the family.

Beloved family treasures as well as curios from my childhood home, things that my mother had accumulated through 80-plus years of living. Now to be divided among family members, to be sent adrift in a dozen different directions.

One thing we found among the boxes that made my sister and I laugh out loud was a container of crumpled shiny "milk caps." Decades ago, the local dairy used thin metal lids to seal its milk bottles, and mother saved several dozen of them. During the Christmas holidays, she would place the caps in a white glass bowl tied with a red ribbon and decorate the center of the dining room table with her creation. How revealing, my sister and I agreed: There are few women who can match mother's frugality - or her ingenuity.

I also uncovered a beautiful lace slip and panties, never worn, something mother probably was saving for a very special occasion, an occasion that never came for her. I was reminded of the Bible verse, "Watch therefore, for you neither know the day nor the hour," and thought again of how precious life is.

My brothers and sister will be gathering this weekend, to sort through and divide our mother's possessions. It is not the possessions that draw us together, though, but the myriad of memories they hold about the woman who owned them.

Linda K. Schmitmeyer is a freelance writer living in Middlesex Township. Her e-mail address is lks260@zoominternet.net.