Trying to Travel Light

I moved back to Ohio a few months ago.  I grew up here, so it's a bit like coming home -- except for the fact that I have spent more of my life in Indiana, California, and North Carolina than I have Ohio.  Home is starting to be a relative term.  Right now it is a house just like the one we had when we were first married.  We quickly outgrew that one, and now we're back to where we started -- only with just one kid left at home.  It feels very strange.  Where is everybody?

My mother-in-law moved to an apartment in an assisted living facility.  She took most of her furniture and many things -- but she left most of the house.  So I am moving her out, sort of, as I move us into her house.  Move that over there, move the box in, empty that drawer into another box, unpack this box into the drawer.  Somehow I always end up with a box of stuff that has to go somewhere.

Unpacking a life.  I've been unpacking Vonda's life as I've gone through the house.  And I'm unpacking mine as well.  It is so interesting, to look at all these things we've collected through the years.  Some are heavy with memory.  Others I look at and wonder what has possessed me to keep it.  Many I look at and think "why would she keep this many empty shoeboxes and FedEx envelopes?

This is a taxing business.  And I'm not talking about the IRS.

And I have a few questions. First off, where did all this bedding come from?  Sheets and blankets and throws and quilts and bedskirts -- good grief!  And what about all this kitchen stuff?  Why do I need 8 pie plates and 6 pizza pans?  Just how much Pyrex does one cabinet need?  Forget about Vonda's stuff -- how in the world did I accumulate all this stuff I have?

There is enough stuff here to start my own Bed Bath and Beyond.  I could call it Bed Bath and Beyond Belief.

I thought the garage would take me at least a year to get through.  Turns out it only took 8 hours! We started at 2pm and finished around 10pm.  We took it all out and shuffled it all around and relocated things and then moved it all back in.  Now it's beautiful and organized.  Which of course means the living room and house in general is a disaster, because all the boxes in the garage came into the house.  It's nice to have things out of the garage -- but now what am I going to do with all this stuff?

The boxes.  They go into the living room, they go out.  They come back in.  They leave. It's like the Cat in the Hat, except cardboard.

What does it all say about us, these things we collect?  Is the measure of our life not just who we were, but what we own?  And what about the burning question that plagues me:  do I really need all this stuff?

Of course not.  In the end, it's all stuff -- sentimental or not -- and it will all burn and we will fly away to heaven.  Someone else will do the shuffling of the stuff, and then everything will be collectible, and Antiques Roadshow will tell my great great great great grandchild that my favorite blue mixing bowl, the one that I use to make the Greek Salad, is worth a fortune.  In the meantime, I will offload the sheets and pie plates to the girls who can use them more than me.

And I will keep the boxes at the ready.  I am sure I will be shuffling it all again soon to yet another house in another town.  Perhaps I will invent a new dance and call it the Shuffle Box.  Maybe even write a song.  I'll keep you posted.