This afternoon we left our apartment empty, turned in the keys, and hit the road to that place called “north” ~ also known in my head as summer.
After all the boxes were moved, furniture lifted and locked away in the storage unit, we sat in the middle of our empty apartment.
Emptiness.
It felt so big.
Just moments before the space was packed with overflowing boxes and it seemed so tightly cramped. Then, a mere hour passed by, and with everything removed and nothingness left, it took on the grand arrogance of space.
That, of course, is easy to reflect upon AFTER the part where we had to lift all the boxes and move all the furniture. Moving is indeed much easier said, as they say.
In that moment of emptiness, with just a vacuum and a few pairs of shoes scattered about the apartment, I was able to reflect upon stuff.
Stuff: things acquired.
It’s all so precious, isn’t it?
The story of the stuff, more than the thing itself.
The stories are priceless.
A collection of moments.
- The time we went to the beach and brought back perfect conical shells.
- The time we went to Costco and came home with a vat of laundry detergent against our better judgment
- The time we found that flat screen TV at half-off prices
- The time we took Pup to the vet (when he tried to hide under the bench but only his nose fit) and he came home with a new scarf.
Some of this stuff we kept.
Some stuff we threw away.
It was clear to me, sitting in an empty apartment, that stuff is fleeting.
However, stories, that is the stuff that will forever leave me full.
