Box by Box

The biggest part of changing scenery is the actual moving. Packing up our lives and transporting them from here to there is more challenging than it should be considering how little we actually need. This mess in my garage is a fraction of what can be found in our house. We're shuffling around and hopping over tennis rackets and hole punches, puzzles and party hats. We've discussed the merits of juggling sticks and rarely played with toys, how many cookie sheets and DVDs we need, and which figurines are actually worthy of our precious shelf space. The more I pack the less I want. We are not "hoarders" but I have decided that our culture tolerates a high amount of packrat-ism before throwing that label around. We are slowly filling my parents' basement with our lives. Box by box you can start to piece together who we are. Two trashbags of yarn and 200lbs or fabric? What does this say about me? A hand-carved wooden hand with "Join the Grand Army of the Republic" painted on it. A small pewter girl feeding chickens. A complete collection of C.S. Lewis novels. Obsessively complete baby books. A Conan the Barbarian replica sword. A bust of Shakespeare. A beautiful and heavy tortilla press. A cross-stitch of a Laura Ingalls Wilder quote. A watercolor painting of a castle in Scotland. Piece by piece it goes into my car, journeying to its next stop. Where they will end up no one knows. We only hold these pieces for our short lifetimes. These things might finish their lives with vastly more interesting stories than I will ever tell. Stuff can be a chain around our necks but it can also be a catalyst for adventure. Packing is forcing me to make choices about the future potential of my things. It's rough, and the disruption of pulling belongings out of their "spot" creates chaos that I find challenging to live with. This is worth it though. Getting out of our suburban desert is the highest priority now. Simplifying is a necessity. It's becoming more real now, as I watch my walls and my shelves slowly empty. If I close my eyes I can see it all turning into vapor like a time lapsed film. Soon this house will be bare, staged strategically like a hotel, waiting for a new family to hammer nails into its walls and stub their toes on its baseboards.