A few days before we leave home, and all the possessions we gathered in 12 years and more, and things suddenly change proportions. Without doing a thing, before we even started sorting and packing, the way I look at, for example, the huge toy collection, is characterized mainly by calmness. I sit here in front of the toy cabinet, under me a box of costumes, and in my head the questions: ‘do they really need this? Can they make-do without it? Is there a replacement for all these things?’
And I surprise myself. I, right now, don’t understand why I was so afraid. They really don’t need all those toys. It’s just that simple. I see things clearer every second, the fears evaporate, and I continue asking myself as I look at item after item, that there’s no real need for it. I thought it would be hard to decide what to take and what to leave behind. But now it turns out I struggle to find a single thing I think worth taking.
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Before I entered the play room I asked my older daughter what does she want to take with her. And she didn’t even understand the question, as far as she was concerned, nothing was needed. She didn’t think we’d take anything with us and so didn’t bother herself with that question. She gave up everything long ago. The process, as I imagined it, suddenly reversed itself. Instead of making painful concessions, I sit with her in the room, trying to explain to her why perhaps it will be better to take something.
When it comes to furniture and electronics things are pretty similar, though admittedly, there are some things that are difficult for me to give up. Things that were very expensive, that are now being given to families in need. I mean, I don’t have much money myself, and I admit I would rather sell those items, but what I will get for them is so miniscule, that I rather just give them to those that need the, rather than make another 500$.
The most valuable things we kept. Emotional value, that is.