Yesterday 2 trucks carried off furniture from my house to their consignment store… things I had lived with much of my adult life, including pieces my mother shipped over from France as a newlywed that had belonged to her mother. Initially I felt sick as they pulled away. This morning I feel free.
Meanwhile I’m packing boxes that will eventually be shipped to France. 20 boxes to be precise. These are the things I really love, mostly from my kitchen and in someways indispensable to my feeling « at home ». Yes, beloved old family pieces are among the things being packed up.
What astounds me is that much of the furniture that has gone was in storage for years. Storage that I paid for. I hadn’t lived with the stuff quite happily for over a decade. And, while I did enjoy living among the memories and coolness of that stuff over the past two years, today I don’t miss it.
Last fall, after I had announced to my 3 adult kids that moving forward I would no longer be the “Keeper of the Stuff”, they came to claim what they wanted, and took it. I can visit that stuff anytime at their house. It’s great actually. I can also rest easy in the knowing that what went off yesterday to be sold will not be morned. More importantly, I am not burdening my kids with the inevitable eventuality of dealing with mountains of stuff they don’t want when I (to quote Julia Child) “fall off the raft”.
Twenty years ago, when my mother moved on, my three sisters and I were faced with a literal nightmare. Our parents were high end hoarders with 9 very large storage units in 3 cities filled with stuff from their families they didn’t have the heart to get rid of. What ensued over the course of 15 years was a modern day version of The Little Red Hen with yours truly in the lead role. It literally destroyed what remained of our family. This is not something I would wish on anyone, much less my own kids.
“If it was easy everyone would do it” is right on the mark. It’s not easy watching things you love go off to be sold. But it is harder still to be stuck in a life that no longer serves you because of stuff.
And so I sit in my nearly empty house with only a couple of pieces (that I love) to keep me company so I don’t have to sit on the floor. There are still boxes to sort in the garage. Christmas ornaments to disperse. The trucks will return sometime soon for the rest. And my new chapter will begin, minus all the stuff.