I spent the other day with a friend who hoards, and my heart despairs for her. I come home from an afternoon with her exhausted from doing nothing when there is so much to do. Then I remind myself that I don’t have to live her life and can’t expect her to live mine.
I come home and clean something.
The day after, I went to see another friend. I look forward to the lightness I feel from her house. While not a neatnik by any means, her home is airy and light. Her blinds will be open and her couch sitable. I can breath there.
But what about my own home? So much to do. So much stuff to deal with. I’ve finally reached the conclusion that just because something belonged to my mother, it is not necessarily a sacred object. Jesus will not weep if I sell my mother’s silver service.
And what about the few things I have of my grandmother’s? There’s a fancy Pyrex loaf pan, a carnival glass bowl, a small sugar bowl in a rose pattern, sans lid. Maybe a few others. I’ll send them to a cousin, I think, for her to give out to siblings or kids. I love them, but what do I need them for? They’d mean nothing to my stepkids or grandkids.
I want to let things go now, not leave them for others to deal with. I want to get up, get going, and go live my life without the weight of so much stuff.
So I went through my China hutch, looking for things to get rid of. I found a few.
I like my China, and I’m going to start using it more. It’s pretty. It makes me feel special. As does the crystal. So no more drinking wine out of coffee cups. What’s the sense of saving it “for good”? What does that even mean?
I rarely put it out for holiday dinners, because the kids were young and some of the adults drank and got clumsy. But so what? From here on out, I’m using my China. Maybe not for everyday, but for once in awhile. Like when I need a little boost, a little bit of pretty in my life.
I am sending things to cousins. Things I’ve enjoyed, but need to pass on to others to enjoy. Let other family members have them to pass on, along, I hope, with stories about the people they came from.
I don’t want a bunch of never used stuff that I’m saving “for good”. I don’t want my kids to have to figure out where things came from or where they should go. I like them all too much to do that, both the stuff and the kids.