On April 18th we fly into Bogota Colombia to begin our trip, we also have tickets for the African safari portion of our trip with Oasis Overland in October 2016. We’ve gotten Lasik, vaccinations, and put our house on the market. It’s all been incredibly exciting but those aren’t the things that brought the trip home for me. That happened in the utility room in the basement, in a wave of melancholy as I struggled with minimalism again.
In that cool, concrete and bare wood portion of the house where we had hidden so many more things than I thought. I gave away the mason jars from our wedding that I had spent both time and money lavishly on. I opened boxes that had moved out of my parents house with me, followed me through apartments, and finally into that room. Probably unopened since being packed up almost a decade ago. Somewhere under the bare bulb, the hits started coming. It was holding the buttons I had made in girl scouts that I realized I was sentimental. It was sorting through the silly notes I had kept, the knick-knacks, the memories, and finally the placing of things into boxes. To give away or throw out and in a much smaller box, the things to keep. It was the stacking up of my life, deciding over and over again that I couldn’t keep all the stuff I didn’t even know I had. With every item I recalled its purchase, weighed its value, and usually got rid of it, trying to imagine the ride I was betting my past on. Time to let these things go and hope I can keep the ghosts they contained.
The practical things like the stainless steel pots and pans, were easy to decide to keep. But the whimsical things, the impractical, the dusty and without much use things, weighed on my soul. The pointless but treasured flotsam and jetsam, stirring up memories, dusty smiles, and sad laughter, were so much harder. And this book, keep or pass it on to its next owner? Will I ever reread it? Do I need to keep it for some reason? Have I absorbed its lessons? Can I gather my memory into my mind and stop leaving it scattered across shelves?
I think goodbyes are always tough. Its been more difficult than I thought to pull my feet free from the stuff I’ve surrounded myself with, to walk away from everything we’ve built. But we’re getting closer and that’s so incredibly exciting. We’re moving towards a dream that has been a long time coming, we can see it emerging from the mist, solidifying and gaining mass. But like any good fog, moving through it is simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. Everything we know is disappearing and something hazy and ill defined is rising up in front of us. Naturally we’re running straight towards it, as fast as possible.0