Just prior to leaving for Italy last month, we learned we would have to relocate. This was not welcome news. I wanted to gnash with my gnashy teeth and stomp with my stompy feet and in general, tantrum to my inner brat’s gnashy stompy content.

It hasn’t gone swimmingly, this something like 40th move (give or take) in my lifetime. “It’s a local move” we thought, “why, we’ll just mosey on over with some kitchen items, and traipse on over with some clothes” hahaha. 20 steps down with whatever you can carry, jam into the car, back up 20 steps to grab more and then drive to new place, load cart, up to 2nd floor, unload, and repeat what seemed like, 80 times over the past several days. But…with the knowledge that this may be our last domestic move before moving to Europe, we will (once recovered from aforementioned tantrums) use this relocation as an opportunity to divest ourselves from a lifetime (and 40-something moves!) of stifling, oppressive stuff, clearing the way for a lighter and freer future.

The new place is smaller, so the “stuff” has to go. Not sure the “does it spark joy?” method will work for me though, as most everything kept through the years sparks some sort of memory or emotion – birthday cards from my mom & dad and my dad would humorously draw a big happy face next to his name with one eye being bigger than the other after he was diagnosed with glaucoma. Pictures, journals, clothes from all the varying sizes throughout the past several years, some you hope to be able to wear again. A lovely light green blouse my mom gave to me that she likely doesn’t even remember but I think of her whenever I see it in the closet. Ono’s toys and blankets (will have to keep a small one ) All this to say…those same memories of love, longing and loss live within me and can exist without all the “stuff”. And so, this will be the start of my Thanksgiving week, remembering, with gratitude (always) the privilege I’ve had to experience such love…