A friend recently brought me a box full of lilies from their yard. What a lovely gift.
Yesterday, my firstborn helped me plant them in the backyard. We spent some time digging, planting, and imagining the beautiful blooms that will hopefully greet us in the seasons to come.
After we finished, he carried the empty boxes into the garage.
"Why did you put those in here?" I asked. "They belong in the recycling bin."
Without missing a beat, he replied, "Have you taken a look at your garage? You guys"—referring to his parents—"are hoarders who never discard anything, so I assumed you'd want to keep these boxes as well."
Hmmmmm...
Guilty as charged.
His comment made me laugh, but it also made me think.
As an immigrant from the Indian subcontinent, I arrived in this country over three decades ago with just two suitcases. Two suitcases contained everything I owned and everything I thought I might need for my new life.
Today, if you were to peek into my garage, you would wonder how five people managed to accumulate so much stuff.
There are five bicycles for the five of us. Not one of them currently works.
There is a stroller.
A high chair.
After all, you never know who might visit with a baby.
And let's not even talk about the electronics.
I still have a television and a camcorder from 25 years ago. They probably don't work anymore, and even if they did, they wouldn't be compatible with anything we use today. Yet there they sit, occupying precious space and collecting dust.
Why?
Because what if we need them someday?
I suspect many immigrants will understand this mindset.
When you come from very little, possessions often represent more than the objects themselves. They represent security. Stability. Proof that you have made it. Things that once seemed unattainable suddenly become available, and if you can afford them, you buy them. Not necessarily because you need them, but because you finally can.
We came from nothing, and we wanted everything.
Or at least everything we thought would make life easier, more comfortable, and more secure.
But now I look at the next generation.
My children, who grew up with far more privilege than we did, seem to want the exact opposite.
They don't want more stuff.
They want less.
Less clutter.
Less maintenance.
Less responsibility tied to things.
In fact, they have repeatedly informed me that they do not wish to inherit the mountain of possessions we have accumulated over the years.
Their message is clear: "Please deal with your stuff yourselves."
Fair enough.
Perhaps the lilies were not the only things planted in my backyard yesterday.
Perhaps a seed was planted in my mind as well.
A seed that says it may be time to start decluttering while I still can.
Not someday.
Not when I retire.
Not when the kids have moved even farther away.
Now.
One box, one bicycle, one outdated camcorder at a time.
So I'm curious.
Any other immigrants going through this?
Or is this not just an immigrant thing at all?
What are you keeping?
What are you finally letting go?
And does anyone need a slightly vintage camcorder?
If you've ever opened your garage, attic, or basement and wondered, "Why on earth am I still holding onto this?" you're not alone!
So, here is the question for you,
Are you a keeper or a declutterer?
What is the most unusual thing you've kept for years "just in case," and what was the hardest item for you to finally let go of?
Comments