Selling My Things…Selling My Memories?

As part of our plan to ditch the American dream, we rented a furnished condo at Edisto and decided to sell everything we owned.  
Selling everything sounds so liberating, doesn’t it?  It sounds like such a footloose and fancy free decision.  I figured we would have a huge yard sale and just haul everything out into the yard. 
I wasn’t expecting the sadness.  
I guess this decision to leave everything behind just got real, guys. We sold our nightstands first.  The nightstands we’ve had our whole marriage. And then the white bookshelves from Ty’s nursery.  We sold the bassinet Emily Grace slept in until she started rolling over. 
 The black leather couch we bought on black Friday the first year we were married.  We woke up at 3:30 in the morning and stood in the freezing Memphis air to get that couch.  But the little things were the hardest.  The candle stick holders I had spray painted the prefect shade of happy yellow.  My Coach tennis shoes that I bought at the consignment store. (They didn’t really fit, but I was still sad to see them go.) The Lightnin’ McQueen chair Ty bought with the money from his first birthday.
Most of the life we’ve built together as a married couple was laid out in the yard for strangers to pick through and haggle over. I felt like our memories were slowing leaving, being bought up a dollar at a time. It made me realize how tied to my possessions I really am. Where’s the balance?  I know it’s not bad to want and have nice things.  It’s not bad to look at a dirty little Cars chair, the one that makes the noise we could never turn on because it scared Ty, and remember little bottoms sitting there watching Mickey Mouse and eating Cheerios. 
I know it’s not bad to have a memory tied to an object, but I also know I have to draw the line somewhere.  I can’t keep every tiny sock, every sweet and sappy card, every everything.  As much as my heart feels attached to every object, I have to let things go.  They’re just things. The things remind me of the memory, but they are not the memory.  The memory isn’t sold in the front yard and loaded onto a stranger’s truck.  The memory is mine and it can’t be taken. (Unless I get really hard on the head.)            


  1. aprilbest1981 says

    wow! what you are doing is going to be hard but I bet down the line you are going to see some AMAZING rewards…good luck to you!

  2. Becky @ bybmg says

    I’m trying to simplify – not sell all we have, but definitely slim down. It is so hard! Nostalgia is so hard…but you’re so right. The memory is yours to keep and you’ll have photos to remember. Visiting from Diana Wrote!

  3. NJ @ A Cookie Before Dinner says

    That tugged at my heart strings, just reading about it! I am one that doesn’t hold a lot of memories to objects and thing frequently get donated to charity but there are some things that I would be so so sad about putting out in the front yard too! Was everything fair game or did you keep of the most special things to take with you? I’m also visiting from Diana Wrote.

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