Keep the Things You Love. Carry the Things You Treasure.

My mom has this advice that she offers up from time to time- that everyone should have their house burn down at least once. 

Like- burn- all the way.  

To the ground.  

Total loss. 

She speaks from experience.  It happened to her as a young woman.  And to contextualize, had she been home at the time- had the fire sparked say at night- had she been in her bedroom, there is a good chance that neither she nor I would be here today.  So.  There's that.  

Her point is that things are just things.  Sure they have memories, and meanings to us as individuals, but ultimately..  things are just things.  What has so much more memory and meaning and value is life itself.  

Is her point. 

And I tend to agree (obviously) but with some nuance.  There are things that we all collect- knickknacks, keepsakes, things that make us happy in a moment.  Sometimes that happiness stays with us and sometimes it fades over time.  But these things, these objects on which we impart special status, help define who we are or were at a given moment.  They deserve us to pause a beat.  

Some things that came with me:
A camera that is not my workhorse but will 
be made into one. 
Cards from friends, written before we left, 
cherished instantly.

This is what I'm thinking about as a trans-Atlantic move becomes more and more real.  More and more... looming.  We are almost two weeks into our latest sojourn to our adopted homeland.  This trip will take us into the middle of July.  And when I packed, I packed things that I planned on leaving here.  Things that felt like they could make what is barely a familiar place into a homespace.  I packed toys that would make my son feel more comfortable.  I packed sweaters and slippers that would make me feel cocooned and cared for.  I packed weird things- thing I don't know that we will actually use here but will make us feel a little like we belong.  

As I was doing this, the prepacking, packing, and soon unpacking, I made round after round after round through our house.  You see- like so many, we have an entire household of things.  Some of these things predate myself, my husband, hell- some of these things predate my parents.  Some other things are new, fresh.  Some things open up wounds when I look at them, some other things are in the business of healing.  

I would find myself, some days, standing in the middle of the living room or bedroom or baby's room staring absently at nothing at all.

Because what do we take?  What, in this lifetime of things, makes the move?  

My mom is right, naturally.  We can live without all of it.  But life is so much more elegant with it.  And ultimately, that is how I approached this first round of movement.  (Or tenth or twentieth depending on how you keep score).  I love a lot of my things, and I will keep a lot of my things.   A lot of my things will get carefully packed and transported on a slow ship from Florida to Portugal.  A lot of my things will not. 

But the things I treasure- the cameras, the notes, the pair of UGGs that will house my feet a million more times- those things I carried with me.  They came on the plane, nestled between pages of books or, in the case of the camera, wrapped up in a pair of socks and jammed into my husband's carry-on.  They made the transit with me because I keep the things that I love, but I carry the things that I treasure.