I'm Gonna Miss This

There's nothing like the prospect of moving to teach you to appreciate what you already have. I like to boldly claim that I'm not particularly attached to "things," that I don't need stuff to be happy (See: Must Have Items You Don't Need). But the truth is that the thought of slimming down our collection of possessions does leave me somewhat daunted. I'm 22. I don't actually own that much, not as much as a more settled-down adult, anyway, and for that I'm grateful. Most of what we do own was given to me for my wedding or college graduation. And it looks like I won't be owning it much longer--because there's not a whole lot you can pack into a couple 50 lb. suitcases.

Here's a few special items that I know will be left behind, and that I know equally well that I am going to miss:

1) Our Bed. This is the only non-thrift store piece of furniture we own. If you've been a long-time reader, you know I'm rather enthralled with our bed. We ordered it and had it custom-made for us from a local Amish furniture store. It's humongous and impractical and gorgeous and it's my favorite thing in this house.

2) My Car. I started driving my blue car when I was 17. It originally belonged to my great-grandma, and somewhere along the way it was decided that I should inherit it. When I first got it, it looked a little better than it does now. That was before my grandpa backed into it twice and I slipped off the road during a blizzard and then Angel slipped off the road during a blizzard.  It's named Jack. Full name: Captain Jack.

3) My Sewing Machine. My whole life I've had to skip all of the "requires a sewing machine" craft ideas in craft books because first my mom didn't have one, and then I didn't. As a girl who dreams up outfits that don't seem exist on a fairly regular basis, being able to make my own clothes seemed like a dream come true. I was able to buy the sewing machine as a graduation gift--and I've had so much fun with it.

4) My Dollhouse. The most impractical thing ever. I've always dreamed of having an elaborately decorated dollhouse. One time, my siblings and I build a pretty cool one out of a cardboard box. This is no cardboard box.

5) My Serving Dishes. I hate to admit it, but I got a little teary-eyed when going through the closet full of my kitchen stuff. All of my serving dishes are mismatched: handmedowns from family members, gifts from our wedding, or were picked out by me on sale with a particular occasion in mind. I envisioned countless parties where guests were fed from deviled eggs on my deviled egg tray, punch in the punchbowl and maybe even some turkey gravy in the gravy bowl. And all of my dishes have been used, and loved--ya'll know I don't skimp on having parties. But I am going to miss out on using them many more times.

6) My Library. Okay, I don't actually have one. I do have a lot of books. But I've always dreamed of one. Floor to ceiling books--old school library with dark wood and sliding ladders and luxurious red sofas with pillows and blankets to cuddle up on. That's a dream I'm giving up, too.


You know? That's probably it. Those are the only things that  are really going to sting. All the little mementos I'll sneak into my suitcases, and I have no love (though a great deal of appreciation!) for pots and pans and small kitchen appliances and bedsheets.

So that's it. Now I know for sure, that at one point in my life, I had all the little "things" I'd always wanted. And it wasn't a disappointment at all. Designing and sewing my own clothes was just as awesome as I'd always imagined it would be. I smiled up at that giant headboard every night when I went to sleep. It was really, really cool to have these things, and I'm grateful that I had them, but it just so happens that I've chosen a lifestyle which doesn't involve having cool things like these.

And I'm going to be okay with that.

But I just want to warn you--if you ever start to think that you have no materialistic tendencies at all, that you're not attached to stuff, decide to pack your life into 1 suitcase, 1 carry-on, and 1 backpack per person, and see what that teaches you. You may be a stronger person than I am, but if you're not, and if you too find yourself suddenly in tears as you pack up books that your husband bought you for your 1st Valentine's Day together into a bag for the thrift store--know that you're not the first to cry over the loss of paperback mysteries, and you won't be the last.