The long road home


I really don’t mind taking a long drive alone. While company would have been welcome on my four-day trip, it’s good headspace time, particularly after the emotion of the previous week.

It was easier than I thought to let go of most of the things I had packed away. And that made it both easier and more difficult emotionally. Easier in the fact that I didn’t agonize much about what to keep and what to sell or give away. (Dad’s mantra helped: “If you can replace it, leave it there.”) But it was more difficult in the way of getting a sense of how much energy and time and money I invested in hanging on to and accumulating things that didn’t matter.

How much time, energy and money do we put into “stuff” when we could be investing it elsewhere? How many things are useful, and how many things are meant to crete a sense of self?

Does our “stuff” hinder us or help us? (And can it help someone else?)

Like everyone, I had a lot of hopes and dreams about who I would be and what my life would look like. I surrounded myself with things that I thought fit in that vision, interests I wanted to be associated with, talents I wanted to acquire, strengths I wanted to possess. But opening box after box of unread books, unused items and clothing that wasn’t right for me felt like opening boxes of desire, envy and insecurity.

I stacked box after box into the truck to take to the rummage sale. When the boxes filled the floor of the truck, I just began flinging items on top of the boxes. Do I want this, need this, have energy for this in my life? No. Fling!

It felt good, to let go. To pack up the things that I still wanted, to drive that long road.

– Originally posted at:


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