They say the day you get a boat is the happiest day of your life. That is, until the day you sell the boat.
The friend who shared those words had just bought a small sailboat. I think she may have actually sailed it a handful of times, the rest of the time it sat in the driveway. The one time I went with her, it took us an age to get the sails rigged and the boat off from the dock in Hampton Bays. The water was shallow, the boat had to be pulled clear of the sand, and there was hardly any breeze. As we finally got under way and went on a slow and crazy zig-zag across the bay, she was promptly sick.
It was all a bit of a disaster. Years ago now, and Leslie is long gone. Her words came to mind as we took a last trip to the house before the closing and left where we had lived for fourteen years for the last time.
It was a departure made much easier by the protracted nature of the getting ready (first delayed by the pandemic) and the inevitable problems and labor-intensive hurdles along the way. But now the deed is done. I carried off a plastic jug of the delicious water (town water just does not taste as good) and took a last garden photo of the hydragea that decided – this year – to bloom for the first time.
And I thought of Mary Oliver’s poem:
Storage
When I moved from one house to another
there were many things I had no room
for. What does one do? I rented a storage
space. And filled it. Years passed.
Occasionally I went there and looked in,
but nothing happened, not a single
twinge of the heart.
As I grew older the things I cared
about grew fewer, but were more
important. So one day I undid the lock
and called the trash man. He took
everything.
I felt like the donkey when
his burden is finally lifted. Things!
Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful
fire! More room in your heart for love,
for the trees! For the birds who own
nothing—the reason they can fly.
Well – I did not burn all the accumulated clutter (I still have an alarming amount of it) but we did call the junk folks.
Away it went – truckloads of the stuff in addition to the carloads dropped off at thrift stores and the boxes and boxes of books donated to the local library for its book sale.
Tony Harrison also has a wonderful poem – Clearing – on the topic of clearing the clutter, letting go, and moving on. You can read it here.
“The hard earned treasures of some fifty years Sized up as junk, and shifted in a day.”
So – not yet feeling like an unburdened donkey, and not yet ready to let go of everything – it’s a new start, in a different county with fresh adventures ahead. (And that’s exciting. Even if the water tastes of chlorine,)
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I moved away from London nine years ago, and the garage here is still completely full of the things I felt I couldn't leave behind.
Many thanks for following my blog, Josie.
Best wishes, Pete.
Happy Landings in the new home to both of you.
Love and best wishes,
Ursula
Thanks Friko! And great to see your name pop up. All the very best to you too.
It's very, very hard to let go. I've had to do it several times in my adult life. There are some "things" I regret giving up (like my LP vinyls) and my piano, but both, I hope, went on to be appreciated by someone else. I love the poem. I taught one about moving years ago that I adored but can't find. It may have been called "Moving" and referenced the house all boxed up and the only sound the "thwack on the screen door." Perhaps someone reading your lovely post and these comments will recognize it. Wishing you and yours all good things in the next chapter!
Thanks for the good wishes Angela. i did take a look to see if I could find that poem. No luck. But I did find a couple of others along the way. This is "The Back Door" by Ted Kooser:
THE BACK DOOR
The door through which we step out
into the past is an easy push,
light as the air, a green screen door
with a sagging spring. There’s a hook
to unhook first, for there have been
incidents: someone has come up
out of the past to steal something good
from the present. We know who they are.
We have tried to discourage them
by moving from house to house,
from city to city, but they find us
again and again. You see them coming
sometimes from a long ways off-
a pretty young woman, a handsome man,
stepping in through the back garden gate,
pausing to pick the few roses.
And I thought this one about hoarding was very clever:
Hoarders: Tara
by Kate Durbin
https://poets.org/poem/hoarders-tara
a wonderful story and a lovely poem; I will be visiting your posts more often --- and thank you for commenting on mine :)
Lovely to have the Mary Oliver poem here. In my experience it would be better not to put things into storage in the first place, but it's often too hard to decide what to keep and what not and, again in my experience, somewhere along the way, you get tired of sorting things out and decide it might wait for another day - when you will have had more time to let go. So I have every sympathy! And I hope you enjoy the next adventures - maybe with a water filter in place to get rid of the taste of chlorine.
Yes. Working on the water filter! (And what a luxury to have such a problem given how so many do not have easy access to safe water.) And yes on your observations about storage. I'm reminded of my grandmother who - in the days of ocean liners - moved across the Atlantic several times. And always accompanied by steam trunks full of linens and other household items. It seemed strange to me back in the day but clearly, those monogrammed items were important to her. And thanks for the good wishes.
While de-cluttering is a liberating and wonderful experience, I wish to focus on your move and congratulate you! Knowing that it has been a long time coming, and unavoidably delayed, it must feel really great to have done with it, and to be where you now want to be. Very glad for you! -- Elizabeth
Thanks for all the good wishes Elizabeth. It was a bit of a journey that was for sure. (My favorite was learning how to safely dispose of 30 plus years of partially used gallons of paint. At least 20 of them.) But all done now and on to new ventures.
Oh now! We've de-cluttered with each house move (6, I think!) but still, there's more! What are we like! Just love MO's poem, in fact, just love all her poems! Keep well and sorted!
Proof positive that a rolling stone does indeed gather moss.
Yes, decluttering feels like a real liberation. I should know, as the world's worst hoarder. I just want to know that the books, CDs etc I give away have a chance of finding a good home (the Amnesty Bookshop fills me with hope). When we had to clear out the books from a late friend's house in the East End, we found that, though there were some wonders among them (many of which I have already), they would fetch next to nothing in sale. But they couldn't be pulped. So Any Amount of Books in Charing Cross Road came to take them away for free.
Double lucky to find somewhere that will come and take them away.
Good luck settling into the new home! Better to go through your clutter at leisure than to discard something in haste and regret it afterward.
Marry in haste. Repent at leisure.
YES! All this thoughtless discarding of important stuff is very troublesome. The art of decluttering is complicated! It is a sport not to be undertaken lightly.
Hey, I have TWO storage units -=- one in NYC and one in SH. The most shocking thing I found in one of them years after storing it there was the cannister with my cat's ashes.
And I might add, I have a different personality there. I'm younger, more interested in the world, more ambitious, less worldly. I like myself better there, but it's time to let it go. You're right.
Hey Carol! Well done on the two storage units. That's what comes of being a high-flying over-achiever! And at least it was a canister of a beloved cat and not one of a more closely related dear departed.
But - I still have a lot of my clutter. Carefully stashed away close by in case I ever need it. Can't be too careful these days. You never know when you might need that extra item going forward.