Here in mostly-sunny Seattle, I am wrapping up a month of work on this old house, where we've lived for twenty-five years. Sometime in the not-too-distant future, we will pass this house on to the next family and hope they enjoy their time here as much as our family has.
Anyone who has tackled a similar job knows how much can be accumulated in a quarter century. My July was a month of clearing and cleaning, painting and patching, organizing workers and working myself. The front hall is nearly impassable, stacked with bags and boxes of miscellany for another charity pickup next week.
Drawers in bedrooms and kitchen are purged of the unused and unwanted. Closets are beginning to be less jammed. My college-guy helpers have toted numerous items out to the main street with "Free!" signs on them, where they disappear into someone's van or truck in twenty minutes or less. Their dad came and bought two rugs before I had time to put them on Craigslist.
A big old dresser is gone from the bedroom I've used as studio and sewing room. In its place are a pile of things that are Going to Mexico. Books. A favorite lamp. Art supplies. Kitchen necessities. Tools. Cherished odds and ends. I try to choose only the items I am especially fond of or can't easily replace and am constantly monitoring my decision making.
Should I bring the cookie cutters I've used to make painted Christmas cookies for over twenty years? All of them, or only some? Will I ever bake those elves and snowflakes in Mexico?
Maybe. Probably. I don't know...
Books are tough. I've had these shelves full of "later" books, books to read and study when I have time someday. I've filled three boxes so far, because I think someday is soon.
Seems this work is best done in layers. First, abandon the obvious stuff. Next, jettison the less obvious stuff. Eventually, you arrive at boxes of family photos, old report cards, and kindergarten drawings. The progress slows. I have to read everything, of course. I've sent off fat envelopes of photos with my sister and brother and son, and packed a few plastic boxes that could be marked, "Keep Pretty Much Forever".
Although I still have closets and drawers to attend to, a lot of stuff is gone or on its way out. It feels good. I came back from Mexico this time with the energy and commitment to get at it. I think it's easier because this life change has become more tangible as the casa there comes closer to being liveable. I have more clarity. I know better what I want...and what I don't want.
Shedding outgrown possessions and clearing clutter. What could be more symbolic of this move than that?
I've lived in this house longer than anywhere in my life. It filled. With things and people and memories. Yet, I am absolutely comfortable with letting it go. It has been a great place to live, but there are many ways to live on this planet, and this is only one of them. I'm ready for another.
I believe that big moves are necessary -- in order to purge, in order to grow. Sometimes we choose the circumstances of change, and sometimes change happens without our permission.
In 1992, my family and I were forced by an arson fire to flee into a cold September night and watch this house burn. It didn't all burn, but a lot did. We were in a rental for a whole year, during which time I dealt with the insurance company, hired a wonderful crew to rebuild, and spent nearly every day putting our home back together again.
This house, built in 1909, was better after the fire than before. The crew was diligent in re-creating the feel of the lost parts, making the new look old. We ended up with more space, all new systems (no lead pipes, no knob-and-tube wiring, insulation!), new walls and roofs and rooms. It's strange how things happen.
We haven't had to do much to the house since then, but it's getting a sprucing-up now. My brother resurfaced the front porch. The painters left yesterday. My kitchen, which I designed and had hand-built by a friend after the fire, has had all the drawers and cabinets refinished by that very same friend. All since I've been back in Seattle...
As I prepare to return to Mexico next week, I feel fine about this month's accomplishments. Oh, there's more to do. Closets and drawers I didn't get to...
...tile and grout to fix, carpet to install.
I've started yet another list for September.
And July was a very good month to be in Seattle. The weather turned lovely and summery, finally. My hydrangeas are all in bloom.
It'll be hot in San Pancho in August. I mean, really hot. And humid. I hope to put in some tropical plants while I'm there, plants that I'll be as happy with as I am with these hydrangeas, which I bought as baby shoots fifteen years ago.
They grew. We all grew.
Change happens. Life would be pretty boring if it didn't. I'll tell you one thing for sure -- I'm not bored.
Hope you aren't, either.
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