Sunday, July 31, 2016
All I own
I thought back to the times I've moved. The first time was when I went off to college. Everything fit in my VW. Clothes, bedding, toiletries, stereo, records, books. I didn't feel like I was doing without, like I was poor.
After living two years in dorms, I moved into an unfurnished off-campus apartment with a buddy. That meant acquiring beds, chairs, a table, shelves, cooking stuff, an ironing board... The trappings of adulthood. Most of which had to be disposed of when leaving college and then replaced when getting my first place out in the real world. Then continually upgraded and added to over the next 40 years until it was time to go back to pretty much what I had in college.
The excitement of leaving my house behind three years ago was very similar to the excitement of leaving home at eighteen. WOOOOO! Independence! Adventure! It's appropriate, then, that I've gone out similarly equipped.
Addendum: After writing this, I thought about when my father was living in an assisted living facility—the old folks home, as he called it. His room was only a little larger than my first dorm room. He had his clothing, bedding, toiletries, radio, TV and books. All the material goods he wanted or needed. A minimalist.