And All That Stuff*

After they had both retired Mother and Dad left their six-room house and moved into a two-bedroom apartment. I was amazed to see how little they took with them when they moved. The 1930’s dining table, six chairs, and buffet were at my house, I knew their Haviland china for twelve, sterling sliver tableware, and the teardrop crystal were now part of my brother’s household. But where was all the other stuff? 

There hadn’t been room in the 1925 bungalow’s small rooms for a lot of stuff. I finally figured out that Mother had pared life’s necessities to their bare essentials. Her bathroom medicine chest seemed spacious because just a few things lined its selves. Her bedroom closet, likewise, seemed much larger than it was because Mother had simplified her wardrobe to a few coordinated polyester outfits, housecoat, and winter coat. Gone were the costume jewelry, the cultured pearls, the blouses that needed to be ironed, the pants and blouses that didn’t go with any other piece of clothing, the high-heeled shoes. The only nonessential she didn’t throw out was her dozen or so bottles of cologne. 

Mother died at 78. Now I’m 83 and longing to be as free of stuff as my mother was. I’m tired of the boxes of materials and tools, pictures on the walls, books and papers, and all the other stuff in drawers and closets and cubbyholes. I want simplicity like Mother achieved.  I’d better get cracking on that right away.

Early autumn on the patio

*I use the term "stuff" rather than "things" because of the verb "stuff" means fill tightly with something.

Copyright 2018 by Shirley Domer