It coincides with a personal choice to downsize, to make my life more zen, less stuff, more time (so much for good intentions), mostly less stuff. And, honey chile, I have some stuff.
I have 23 tablecloths, this maybe shows you the brevity of the situation here. Who needs 23 tablecloths, five for Thanksgiving alone, complete with enough napkins for a place setting of twelve? Well, evidently me.
Each and everything in the house, all 3200 square foot of it, has a reason for being there. How will I divest myself of art collected in Napa? Or the ridiculously expensive lanterns from Pottery Barn, that remind me of a fabulous Paris trip. Bookcases of art books, jars full of seashells collected over the years and photos in frames too numerous to count…all precious to me. How can I possibly get rid of even one?
The plan is to rid ourselves of everything and then live in a RV on the beach, (ok, so maybe I can keep the seashells) a top of the line RV, but an RV none the less. It sounds exciting and part of me wants to do it badly, finally living the life the early 70”s touted, more Jimmy Buffet than Warren Buffet, toes in the water, ass in the sand sort of thing.
The other part is afraid that parting with these possessions somehow means parting with my memories also. Does it somehow mean those holidays we celebrated together as a family won’t be valid anymore? Those wonderful years with children running in and out of the house are suddenly over and we have nothing to look forward to? Everything in me screams for a paradigm shift, a reality check, a get a grip moment. But I cannot seem to put my big girl panties on.
The odd thing is, this exact scenario was forced upon me in 1994, when we lost nearly everything but our children during a 100 year flood that took our entire house and most of our possessions. I kept all my memories intact then, in fact, having no possessions was really quite freeing. The world seemed lighter on my shoulders, less to clean, less to fold…less.
So why am I having such a tough time now?
As I go through the inventory list I meticulously keep on these items, I find that the twelve green water glasses I use for Thanksgiving (and only Thanksgiving) are also somehow inventoried in my heart. These are my Thanksgiving water goblets. In other words, they are part and parcel of the Thanksgiving experience for my family. I have to ask again, how could I possibly get rid of any one of them?
I am preparing for a huge yard sale with my daughter. We have one each quarter of the year, and sell all of the items we have re-purposed. As I go through my possessions and mentally part with them, I wish them well in another home. I lay all 23 of the tablecloths in a box to be priced and wander off to work.
In a few hours, I get a call from child #3, another daughter, who has come to pick up a mirror and a slipcover. “What are you doing with all the tablecloths?” she asks. “They are going in the yard sale, if you want any of them take them.” I answer. “OK” she answers simply and we hang up.
I go home that evening and she has taken some of the 23 tablecloths. She has huge weekend Bar B Ques and they will be well used. Daughter #1, when she reads this and learns of my concerns, reveals she has always coveted “the closet.“ She wants all the glassware and the rest of the tablecloths. As usual, the problem solves itself and I pat myself on the back for raising such wonderful daughters.
I realize the next few months will be a firming up time, deciding on how much we will downsize, when to put the house on the market and what to price it at.We will encounter opposition from friends and family about our choices. My husband and I will suffer through "Are you sure about this?" and "You guys are nuts!" I am at peace, the really important decisions have already been made, my 23 tablecloths have a new home and the Thanksgiving water goblets are in good hands. All is right in the world.
All picture sources were via http://www.pinterest.com/
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