Sacrifice to make someone happy

Looking through the once worn-by-me clothes when I was 3 years old, I could smell the rich history the clothes gave out. Among the pile of clothes, I gradually took out a pair of baby shoes and placed its sole against mine, and I could see the "big" difference in size, it was like a piece of bread. Did I actually used to wear all of these? I have grown out of all of these clothes, and somehow just do not want to lose them. It was like they were a part of me. Taking them away was like taking away your face! My mother told me a few years ago that one day; we would be donating all of these clothes to the less fortunate. Back then I was in Primary 4 when the house was still fresh and spacey. Now that the house was cram, stuffy, and full of unnecessary stuffs, it was time to clean things up.

All my family members knew that I was terrible at cleaning things up; I even stuffed primary school work into any gap or space I can find. But that was not my worst fear. I was afraid that my mother would take away my baby clothes that I loved so much. It was like a relationship between history and me. I protected these “treasure” for all these years, but the time has come, for me to sacrifice something meaningful to me. I was starring at the pile of old clothes when my mother came crashing in with a plastic bag, “It’s time”. I could not resist the temptation to reject to her idea but something tells me that it was time to let it go. However, I argued with my mother that I would keep these “treasure”, and in the end, I was reprimanded and forced to place all of the once worn-by-me clothes. I was pretty down for that moment.

We took the bulky plastic bag of my old stuffs to the nearby church. We were rushing before the gates closed. Finally, placing the bag into the donation drive basket, where the clothes will be given to the less fortunate. At least I made a sacrifice to make someone else happy…