Moving On

So, it’s been quite a while since I’ve written anything in this space, nine months gone, to be honest, and writing, like most things that are a hobby or a habit, tends to get rusty when it’s not practiced with any regularity. I’ve been in the midst of several time-consuming processes, of learning a new set of skills at work, moving to a new home, and sorting through a massive and eclectic amount of personal belongings, furnishings, and effects that I have carried with me for forty years, as well as furniture and knickknacks that belonged to my parents, passed down to me.

Here’s the reality:  I don’t want any of it any more. I moved into my new digs a month ago, I intentionally chose it because it is smaller by half compared to my other house, and I took only the things that I have used on a daily basis for the past year. I have embraced minimalism as a Way of Life with this move. It also makes it a lot easier on anyone who has to come into my space, when I am no longer here, to sort and sell and donate the remainder of my life, the things that only once mattered to me. Morbid thought, I know, but worth considering for the sake of the poor soul who’d have to decide what to do with all the ‘stuff.’

Because if I am totally overwhelmed by the amount of personal belongings I have collected over the years, how would anyone else feel about it? I imagine it would be easier if one was detached and had no relevant history with these things that I once thought beautiful, and lovely, the mix of things that had stories attached:  presents from girlfriends past, reminders of trips and holidays, and all the other reasons one receives gifts from others. So, here I am, or rather, there I was, surrounded by the whispers of others, by the memories of people who are no longer around. And I was leaving it all behind.

The thing is, I could never forget any of them. I couldn’t possibly.

At this time in my life, I have started new endeavors, exciting prospects of what I’ve always wanted to do. I am standing at the “jumping off point,” at the top of the trail that is my own version of Independence and there’s no room here in this new place, on this new journey, for reminders of “what’s done is done,” because they are over and done with, and I really am moving on.

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