Home, clutter and meaning

I had some thoughts about starting a blog right after I left my former employer (FE) but I was really too exhausted to do much of anything. What I did start to do (between naps and DVDs of West Wing) was to go through a drawer here, a shelf there and start to reacquaint myself with my home. Just before I left my job I had found the pie cabinet of my dreams at a local antique store and brought it home for the corner where I knew it belonged. Not only is it old and handcrafted, but its shelves are the perfect place to store my latest book arts project when I need to clear the dining room table. Somehow the pie chest was the motivation to start re-nesting in the house I loved.
As spring approached, I was collecting quite a few items that I just didn't need anymore (casserole dishes, baskets shaped like ducks, Indian bedspreads from a past life) and started to get ready for a garage sale. But every time I worked on the project I was face-to-face with some very complex emotions: Items either held memories of a time when they were well-used but no longer needed or hopes for a sort of life that never materialized (dreams that didn't turn out). Even though it is only a box of pictures from 10 years ago, it can seem like a box of 10 pound weights....just too heavy to pick up and move on. That's why I loved this article in today's NYT.
The garage sale turned out to be a sort of farewell party for the items that needed to find new homes. It was a beautiful day in April and friends from all parts of my life showed up as well as neighbors and garage-salers. There was time to chat with everyone as they found things that they loved...the buying/selling transition was larger than just money exchanged. And in the end, I love having a home that is de-cluttered just enough so that the things I love can be seen anytime I walk in the room.