Moving
Despite having moved across the country once before, I do not find this return trip back to the East coast any easier than the first trek. The mental anguish of deciding what to keep coupled with redefining what will be useful on a 3+ acre property in the mountains puts me in new territory. I feel empowered letting go of the larger items. “I will bring no furniture back with me,” I tell myself. I give up a TV that I have carted around from state to state. I say goodbye to my kiddie pool and bubble supplies. But in every sweep of my collection of things, I find items I can’t commit to discarding. “It’s small, it will fit,” I rationalize. Deep in the recesses of my mind I know applying that rationalization to every item I want to keep will quickly fill the trunk space of my Subaru Forester. For now, those items sit in the “maybe” pile.
To ease my anxiety about the volume of items, I decide I need to have a visual representation of my things. I say to myself “I will fit everything on these shelves. Wait, no, I will fit them in my closet.” This internal bargaining seeps into most evenings now, in-between class work and remembering to feed the cat, I talk to myself. I try to envision my new space, the guest room in my parents’ house, and what I might fit.
I focus on giving useful and sentimental items priority over other types of items. Kitchen supplies? No longer useful in a kitchen populated by generations’ worth of tools and utensils including a 19th century baking cabinet. Rugs? There’s no beat-up floorboards to cover up at home. Pieces of unfinished crafts? If they weren’t finished here, they have no better luck at home.
“Useful” looks more like my corner cat sander that will get put to the test on the property. I justify my yoga mat and hand weights knowing there’s room in the 3,000+ square feet to work out. Every single shoe is coming, no matter how impractical Steve Madden platform peep-toe booties can be on gravel and grass. A woman has to have a few beautiful pieces in her wardrobe. Or a hundred. Which is why my evening gowns will make the journey, as well.
My sentimental items only get as big as the wine red antique chest I’ve carried around the country over the past several years. It served as a coffee table, TV stand, and nightstand during its life. The silver tray my grandfather gifted me on my 18th birthday finds a place. Books I’ve read or know I will read are secure. My jewelry gifted from friends and family. They’re all small items, but again, I remind myself, many small items take up a lot of space.
