Two months back, Rosemarie and I were in the process of packing up the house and preparing to sell it and move to a smaller place. It’s a common exercise many of us our age go through when we realize the reason for such a large house with all the bedrooms no longer applies. The kids have gone, but the rooms decided to remain. I thought for a split second what a great idea it would be to buy a modular house, one constructed in sections easily removed from the others. Then, when it was time for the children to go, you’d simply tell them to “get the hell out and take your room with you!”
Well, as many of you are aware, we had to put the move on hold while I took a time-out for a little spinal surgery. I am, however, able to continue part of the moving process at this time. I can fill boxes with stuff, but once full, somebody else has to lift them and carry them to the “box staging area,” formerly known as the dining room
Moving is always a daunting experience. It’s basically an in-your-face personal review of your life. There are, of course, a good number of boxes that still remain sealed, never opened, from the last time I moved. These I am tempted to leave sealed and simply throw them out based on the rationale that if I’ve had no need for the stuff inside these boxes for the 20+ years they’ve been sitting on a closet shelf, why keep carrying them onto the next place? But, of course I will. Many of these contain stacks and stacks of photos I took of the children when they were young. Trash? I think not.
While I am being particularly objective and focused this time around, I am still taking too much with us. I have really really tried to purge our collection of worldly goods. I have three piles: Garage Sale, Trash and Take with Us. The goal is to have the smallest pile in the Take With Us group. That’s not happening. I keep telling myself it will all pan out in the end. The problem is, packing involves too many variables, especially for an undisciplined mine. Every item you pick up is put through a decision as to which of the three piles it goes in. It turns out becoming a parade of memories, nostalgia and emotional ties to almost every item you touch. It is exhausting.
Our lives are one big collection of baggage, some containing fond memories and useful goods. Others are loaded with sadness, impracticalities and disappointments. But if you are to continue on being who you are meant to be, then each bag, box and bundle gets wrapped and sealed and put on the truck. It is what is is…a moving experience.