My “good stuff” arrived from overseas 16 months ago. I have neglected to unpack it. And refuse to use it. Yet.
After all, we are moving soon so why bother? I tell myself and everyone I meet. Such items are tangible representations of a life we no longer lead, a financially stable one, and one lost abruptly just over two years ago.
Thus, convinced it is all superfluous and I’ll be just as happy with the bare essentials, I pretend it doesn’t exist. And I never miss it. And yes, we are just as happy as a family, if not happier, than ever before.
And under such rationale, I’d graciously accept an extended hand offering me a piece of furniture or household item---despite having my own belongings stashed away in the garage.
Three main excuses I’ve given for living this way are:
1. “My kids are young and will destroy it anyway.”
2. “I’ll just wait to have nice things again once they’re older.”
3. “I don’t need visual reminders of our shared past; it’s the here and now that matters.”
Blah. Blah. Blah.
But the other night my mother, in collusion with my visiting sister-in-law, piqued my interest. They took me through a visual tour of how much lovelier my domestic world would be by hanging paintings and family photos on the wall. They encouraged me to assemble my good dining room table and unpack some of our nice, unbroken ornaments.
Just a few of the comments were:
“Get rid of this crap. This table is falling apart. Your dishes are chipped. Why are you recycling plastic?”
I had inadvertently grown accustomed to the other extreme---a plentiful life full of nothing but bare necessities.
“You aren’t moving tomorrow, really, despite your daily affirmations,” my mother challenged.
And she is right.
Then it hit me.
I almost died 13 days ago in a terrible biking accident. But I got lucky and my jaw took the brunt of a fall, sparing my brain or body from any trauma.
And home recovering in the warmth embrace of my family, I find myself living for tomorrow.
But who really knows how many more days any of us have left in this lifetime?
So on a mission, we transformed my humble abode into something a little more elegant---a little prettier. And stepped it up just a notch.
And guess what?
My heart is content. I awake to a house full of family photos plastered all over the walls. My eyes dart about our home delighting in little treasures, remnants of joyful memories we spent as new parents and newlyweds.
Admittedly, I love sipping coffee at the dining room table I proudly polished every day for six years.
I don’t want to live with regrets.
I want to pay attention to the details. Now.
And celebrate life by beautifying my external world once again.
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