Our house is looking pretty empty as of last week. Things are selling fast! Couches, rugs, lamps, tables, dishes, pans…gone! The living room was purchased by one buyer! We sit here on our lawn chairs (which technically don’t belong to us anymore), listening to the echo of our own voices in the empty space, and I consider the cost of giving it all up. Is it true that “he is no fool who loses what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose”? I believe so, but there are moments I feel slightly foolish sitting on the floor to read my kids a story, eat my food, fold the laundry, or do my work. But it’s all perspective, isn’t it? In some countries, a floor and home are a luxury. This is the good life. While comforts are disappearing, the freedom we’re finding is exponential and we couldn’t be more satisfied that we are right where were supposed to be, enjoying eachother more, and things less!
It’s been a different kind of processing for all of us, this transition and shedding of worldly goods. The littlest one’s dance and sing loudly through the rooms, loving the change and all the space to run. Every so often they ask, “How much longer?” Will it be tomorrow? Or, when we sell the food? When can we get on a plane and fly to Duh-laska? Their excitement is contagious! But they’re tired. Today, it’s not even 11am and they chose to lay quietly on their beds to play/read, and now are asleep
Our oldest two bring the sobering to our hearts as they display more prominently the emotional toll this process takes too. Oldest wears it more than the rest of us because change of any kind disrupts the strong ties and emotions that run deep in him. It has been hard for him to watch strangers walk away with his treasures and rubs the bitter into the sweet of this great adventure a little more than he likes. He’s working through it though, and as the days and time pass (and the $$ adds up in his pocket from the sale of his things), the acceptance of running for the prize, not the things along the way is sinking in.
The work of walking kids through all this, sharing our story with strangers and friends alike, as well as the vacancy of possessions, and connecting all the pre-move, post-move dots has been exhausting. Yet, we feel freer than ever. Not having to consider stuff, but rather free to just consider the ONES who make our house a home, wherever that is, or however it looks, feels so good. I think we may all like to live a little lighter this next time around. Not “tiny house” light, but keeping-things-simple light. That one was for you, Jackie. 🙂
At the end of the day (or even before), we are so thankful that our bed (that technically isn’t ours anymore either) is still under our bodies as we sleep the sleep of people who’ve worked a hard day, accomplished much, and are soaking in the goodness of being content with ALL the little that we now have.
Transitions are hard, and exhausting, but life is good.