Stuff

 My life has been a strange one of continuous transience. I grew up moving a lot as my dad went from graduate degree to graduate degree. When I relocated to Nigeria as a 14-year-old, I was told I had a box I could fill with my stuff and that was it. And we owned no house in the U.S. in which to store stuff. Stuff. I held it loosely as a child, and I've held it loosely as an adult.

I've continued to move a lot as my husband has gone from graduate degree to graduate degree. I've moved overseas five times (self-funded) when I've had to pack our belongings into a few boxes or suitcases. The difference has been that my in-laws DO own a house, and it's big enough for them to have let us keep things there while we're abroad. 

Through this long process of Steve trying to earn his PhD, I always envisioned that he'd eventually be teaching at an American university and that we would have a home of our own at that point. I envisioned a place to put down roots, a driveway in which to shoot hoops, a basement in which to let teens play foozball and board games together, a spare room in which to do crafts with the girls, a yard in which to grow plants and play Kubb, a kitchen in which to use my good mixer and blender, and a dining room in which to have lots of company over and use my nice dishes. Anticipating all that, I admit: I did begin to accumulate STUFF.

I didn't guess that we'd be making another overseas move. 

So now my stuff stares me in the face, almost taunting me. 

"Ha ha! You thought you'd get to use these gathered art supplies to make projects with the girls?! Nope!" 

"Ha ha! You thought you'd actually have people over and get to use all your matching dishes and make a cake with your fancy mixer? Nope!"

"Ha ha! You thought you'd get to ride bikes and shoot hoops and jump on a trampoline in your yard? Nope!" 

Now begins the process of getting RID of most STUFF. I don't know how long we'll be abroad, or what will happen when we return. To be honest, I would like to hang on to a few valuable things -- yes, the expensive mixer, blender and sewing machine, maybe my prettiest jug -- but this is my chance to loosen my grip, to change my direction, to embrace a new way. A way of less stuff.