Tell me if you’ve heard this one before… Just as we’ve established the “new normal” (which is to say the same, old normal, but in a new place) and I finally feel like I’m getting a handle on things, we go and foo everything up.
Yupper-doo, we’re moving again this month.
However, this time it won’t be across the country or across the ocean. It’s barely even across town. We’re going from one gorgeous house to another equally gorgeous, but slightly smaller house with a bigger yard and a koi pond.
Yes, a koi pond.
We’re moving to accommodate Mr. D’s commute and erratic work schedule while still allowing us to maintain just one car (and my sanity). And that is all I wish to comment on the situation.
That is all I wish to comment, because the last time I attempted to explain the details to someone, she quickly offered to lend me the book she was reading… something about “it’s all just stuff” or “materialism is eating your soul” or some such…
This is my third move in 18 months. THIRD.
I know exactly how many boxes it takes to move our household. 243.
I know exactly how much it all weighs, including furniture. 34,421 lbs.
I’ve purged, purged, and purged again. No one knows better than yours truly what we need or don’t need.
“Just get rid of all of it,” she continued. “Besides it sounds like you really need the money more…”
Oh-kay, b arring the otherwise totally crass assumption about money, (This IS Northern California, after all. Cost of living is ree-dunk-culous for everyone. It’s a given.) I wondered why I was left so miffed and insulted by my pal’s well-meaning, but misplaced helpfulness…
A quick look around my house later that same day made me realize why. It’s not just stuff.
I know. I know. Clearly, the last words of a drowning, delusional woman, but really…. It’s Not. Just. STUFF.
It’s the beautiful spoils of the life we have cultivated for ourselves…
It’s the books and artwork we found while honeymooning in Spain. The posters from the films towards which Mr. D’s dedicated his time and talent. An antique sign and an etching found on London’s Portabello Road. An oil painting of “Michael the Archangel” (our family’s patron saint) discovered in the back of a warehouse specializing in chintzy costume jewelry. Wedding photos. Baby photos. The Christmas ornaments Mr. D’s mom lovingly crafts for each of her grandchildren each year. A hand-carved “Last Supper” that once hung in my parents’ house, and on and on…
It may “just be stuff” to some, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s the only thing that makes living here, there, or anywhere… HOME.
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Don’t feel bad. I’m quite attached to my material possessions. I would so not fit in in California. I love yoga and healthy eating, but I’m such an East Coast girl! Hang in there. The new place sounds lovely.
Good luck with this move, hope it’s the last one for a long time.
You’re right, it’s not just stuff. We move a lot, too (not quite 3 times in 18 months, so you have me beat there), and without all of our stuff, each house would feel like just a place we’re staying for awhile. It sounds like you have some neat treasures.
I’m with you…some stuff is just stuff but some stuff is priceless.
So with ya hon. A home is your life. With meaning.
And moving that many times in 18 months sucks. We had to move from San Antonio to Turkey and Turkey to Mississippi in 24 months. That sucked. I cannot imagine 3 moves in less time!
{{hugs}} and hope there are no more moves!
Totally NOT just STUFF! That 2nd to last paragraph almost made me cry and it’s not even my things! Good luck with the move…
Geeze. ANOTHER move and it’s still not to NY. Why do you torture me so. This post is beautiful, good luck with the move and I will always love you for introducing me to freecycle.com.
It’s hard not to be attached. Especially when it is what makes it “home.” When you have been moving so much, it’s the constant things that need to be there.
Hey there!!! It is so good to catch up with your life. I am glad that everyone is doing well and good luck with the move. I understand the stuff being home mentality. I couldn’t get rid of all my stuff to leave at my parents house…it is here for when we move back. Esp. all the books and artwork
Just happened to check your blog and I see you are back! Yay! 🙂 Good Luck with the move. Ansley is a doll! They grow so fast don’t they? I’ll admit, I love my possessions. Each one tells a story or has a purpose. They help make our house a home!
Good grief woman, I hope this is the last move for a long time.
You cannot get rid of such precious things that come with the beautiful memories of your life. It would be so very wrong.