We’re fleeing the nest. No we’re not 20 something, divorcing our parents and swapping the family home for a tiny cubicle with dodgy whiteware. The nest is ours!
Summer bloomed late this year and there’s been no better place to be than our home by the sea. It’s also the place that contains our “stuff”.
When I was in my 20’s I enjoyed accumulating stuff. That coming of age where you actually own a dinner set that doesn’t come from a charity shop and your wine glasses come in sets. I feel as though I’ve found my groove, I’m an adult and I have my adult stuff around me. But we’re going to travel the world, be lightweight and unchained. We’ll need to pack away our stuff.
My confession is this: I’ve been on an emotional journey, grieving the loss of my stuff for the months ahead. I’ve never been one for packing light.
My husband is deeply troubled by the plight of our oceans and the impact of waste on our planet. Our children have joined the tribe and are seeing their surroundings in terms of what can be recycled and re-used. We’re slowly going through a revolution in our household. Suddenly stuff is beginning to feel less important. I find myself contemplating whether that sense of home is created by a great coffee machine and a couch that hasn’t been passed through the generations? Or whether it comes from the people that blow life into four walls and a ceiling. I revealed my fears to my husband and suggested it’s easier for him because he’s going home. He looked at me and our energetic daughters for a contemplative moment and said simply; “home is where you all are”. Perhaps he’s right.