The downsizing process

I know that there are people who uproot themselves and move their lives frequently, usually for reasons related to family or employment. I am not one of those people. I don't need both hands to count off the number of addresses that I've had in my life, including places I lived as a transitory student. Putting down roots means collecting stuff, putting nails in the walls because you own them, and modifying things to fit wants and needs. 

Most people at some point are faced with a downsizing event. Very often it's done out of necessity rather than by choice. Ours is a bit of both. I'm looking at having a surgical repair of a rotator cuff injury that I sustained in a fall back in January. I'm simply not capable of doing spring planting, maintenance, and yard work as I have done for the past 25 years in this house. There's also a lot of "deferred maintenance" needed around here that I'm ashamed to say that I've let slide, and now I'm just not really capable of doing it even if I had the necessary skills. 

Injury aside, we haven't been able to buy anything in years because we just don't have room. Living in this house the last few years has felt like we were being pushed into smaller and smaller space because of the build up of stuff all around us. Our current plan is to sell everything that we can, take only the bare necessities, and keep what we must in storage, to be gradually reduced as we travel back here for visits. Although the injury helped me come to terms with the decision, I am glad to be making this move by choice while we still have the choice to make.

We've been sorting, organizing, selling, donating, and tossing out accumulated stuff pretty steadily over the last couple of months. Today an auction house came and removed a lot of the household furnishings, particularly the antiques that we've collected over the years. It hasn't been easy, but it hasn't been entirely tragic either. For one thing, we've seen, touched, and re-discovered many things around here that we haven't actually seen in years. Lots of memories, most of them good. And the process has been rather liberating in a way. I feel lighter, less tied down, unburdened by material things as they leave. When we first made selections about what to keep, it felt good knowing that I had that option. However, as we are a little further along in the process, I've found that I am now able to part with many things that were initially in the "keep" pile. 

Pictures are from Tuesday's 2.5 mile walk with Bailey.

One of the things I ran across yesterday was a small piece of paper torn from a daily calendar from 1996. It contained the first verse of a poem by Rupert Brooke that I had kept in memory of our little dog Vito, pictured below.

All in the town were still asleep,

When the sun came up with shout and a leap.

In the lonely streets unseen by man, 

A little dog danced. And the day began.

I'm posting it here now so I can throw away the piece of paper.