It’s more of the same. More packing and tossing and packing and tossing. I guess that’s what happens when you’re moving from a big house to a smaller one. There are so many more decisions to make about what to keep and what to discard, about what will look good in a small home when it was designed for a large one, about how to cull family treasures and gifts without offending anyone.
I’m reminded that when we moved in this house we did it piecemeal. We owned the house two years and just came on weekends, where we survived with the minimum of furniture. But then we decided to move here lock, stock, and barrel and fill the place to its maximum capacity. It took us eight years, but we did it well.
We came from a condo which is almost the exact size of the one we’re now moving into. So it isn’t as if we haven’t lived in a smaller space before. Yet, I think we’ve grown accustomed to big, spatial, no end in sight. It reminds me of Frederick Jackson Turner’s law of ‘manifest destiny’ wherein our country was ‘destined’ to expand from border to border. In fact, there was a belief at the time that this expansion was divinely ordained.
I’m not sure I accept Turner’s theory when it comes to colonial expansion, but I can certainly see it at work on the personal level. As long as Earl and I hadn’t contemplated moving, we continued to buy, save, and hoard with great enthusiasm. We knew we had ample room. We didn’t consider the future.
But now the piper exacts payment. We must choose what we’re taking with us and cut ties with the rest. It’s been an ongoing process since we first sent many items to auction a month ago. It continues to plague us. Even this morning we were still debating a couple items and whether they would make the final cut. In the end, if we’re in doubt we’ll bring the questionable item along and make the ultimate decision on site.
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