One. Month.
Here it is, our big move to Colorado is just a month away. The countdown begins and the excitement builds. Typically, as I prepare for a move I don’t think twice about the items I’m packing, I simply put everything into boxes and blindly move it all to the next destination. We have tackled this move in a much more intentional way. As we get closer, we are going through every possible item in our apartment to see what we have forgotten about in the last two years. Do we use it often? Does it bring us joy?
Growing up, there were items that filled the house, the attic, the basement, and every nook and cranny you could find each having its own background story. It was a gift, it was passed down, it was sentimental, it was something. This is how we looked at objects in the house, they were not just simply items, they were stories. Well, now I am 29 years old and I cannot keep every single item that tells a story but the guilt of getting rid of it has held me back so many times. After talking to my mom, we are both in the mental space of eliminating “stuff” from our lives. We cannot keep everything just because we feel guilty to give it away.
As I purge, donate, and sell items around the house, I look around and feel mentally refreshed. A weight is being lifted off my shoulders and the unnecessary clutter is finding a new home. Drinking glasses that were once my great-grandmothers have been sitting in the back of my cabinet for years because in my mind, I would be throwing away a memory of her life. I have to let go of that guilt and realize someone could get use out of them rather than them collecting dust in the cabinet. Books that I have read and have no intention of reading again have found a new home with my sister-in-law. She reads everyday and was thrilled to take my hand-me-downs. Who wants to move a massive box of heavy books? Not me.
Car loads of miscellaneous items have been shuttled to Good Will as we prepare for this move and I have never felt better. Each time Erik and I visit my parents house, the discussion of taking my childhood memorabilia back with us always surfaces. Before, I would take the boxes home without sorting through any of it and keep it all, not knowing exactly what was in there. Now, I have placed a new lens on “memorabilia”, knowing which things are absolutely essential and which items can be thrown away without a second thought.
Of course, there are items that I will not give away because they truly mean the world to me but that list has gotten exponentially shorter in the last month. As a little girl, I would sleepover at my great-grandmothers house and she would tell me stories of her travels all across the world. I would sleep in the guest room, gazing at all the vintage goodies she had collected throughout her life.
One closet in particular was filled to the brim with her beautiful evening bags. Each bag was uniquely detailed with beading, intricate stitching, or magnificent colors and she remembered where each bag came from. My great-grandfather loved buying handbags for her and it showed every time I admired her collection. She loved telling me stories about them and reminding herself of the times she got the handbags from him.
Well, she passed away at 102 years old and left behind these fantastic treasures. This will forever be something that my mom and I cherish and they will always be priceless in our eyes. I have a large storage bin in my closet filled with purses from both my great-grandmother and my mom that will always stay with me. As my husband and I were cleaning out the closet he asked about the storage bin, wondering what the contents were inside. As I divulged the word handbags, his eyes opened wide, seemingly shocked that I could own that many purses while only ever using a couple. I have gotten rid of so much throughout the apartment but this is something I will stand firm on. For every special occasion, I find the opportunity to bring out one of those beautiful vintage handbags that, if asked, will keep my great-grandmothers spirit flowing through my soul and her light in this world will simply never dim.
Most of my things are simply just that, things. I can donate or sell 80% of the items in the apartment right now but that 20% is non-negotiable. We have a one-of-a-kind coffee table that my oldest brother built me when I moved to Iowa. He wanted to try something new that he had seen but in all honesty, he wasn’t sure how it would turn out. I always give him full artistic freedom to trial any ideas he has because that is half the fun! He has handcrafted several pieces for me and whenever someone inquires about them, I get the opportunity to gloat about my brother’s unique designs and abilities.
Similarly, I have a decorative wood chair that was placed in my great-grandmothers front hall for as long as I can remember. The seat lifts up to reveal a storage space for gloves, hats, scarves etc. I had never, in my life, seen anyone sit in this chair but it has created a lasting imprint in my mind. When she passed away, to my surprise, no one wanted to take it. Soon enough, the chair was mine. We had nowhere to put it in our small apartment but you better believe I made room. And as it sits idle in our apartment, it still has not been sat in but simply displayed.
While prepping for this move to Colorado, I have quickly learned the difference between meaningless memorabilia and essential items that hold significance. I have cleared space for these treasures and it brings me such joy to look around to have them all displayed as they should be. Whether it be the sturdy wooden chair or the crystal ice bucket I acquired, it makes me smile seeing them in our home. Erik and I do not purchase many items for our apartment, most are hand-me-downs or gifts that mean more than any store could offer. It brings me a sense of relief to know, every item that we move was intentionally chosen to make the journey. We will continue striving towards a minimalistic lifestyle to eliminate all unnecessary ‘stuff’ from our home. We cannot let the meaningless clutter overshadow the intricate treasures that have transformed into our life’s most valuable souvenirs.
“I’ve found that the less stuff I own, the less my stuff owns me.” -Nathan W. Morris
