In many ways, clearing our house of all the 'things' we've collected over the years has been an enjoyable, even cathartic, experience. I have no trouble purging clothes, furniture, kitchen gadgets, decorations...most of the things in my house hold no particular attachment for me.
That being said, I do have a weakness, a housekeeping Kryptonite if you will. Books. Over the years I have aquired and purged books with a ruthless regularity, yet still found myself, many times, with more books than I can store. In the last six months I've given away or sold literally hundreds, yet there are hundreds more lining the walls of our schoolroom.
It isn't only my personal collections that are weighing on my soul, but all those books I've collected for the children. We use them in schooling (or might someday, you never know!) and take a bagful with us wherever we go. What if we need to know about the Aztecs suddenly while out on the road, but I don't have a book about ancient South/Central American civilizations?
Obviously, carrying them all around with us in an RV is not an option. Both space and weight prohibit such an action. Yet I cannot help but feel sad at the thought of all those lovely books that I've selected through the years just sitting in boxes. We will switch them out on our trips back "home" to our family and storage container, but it still gives me pause.
I suppose it's the same for everyone. We all have that one area where we are still firmly rooted to this old world. For me it's books, for my husband it's tools. My son is going to have to leave his trampoline and pick a limited amount of video games, and my daughter will not be able to take her pool full of crawdads and all her art supplies.
It's all part of the journey. I need to just get out my boxes and start filling them up with the things I currently think I can't live without. My day to day life will probably not be much different. Oh, but it hurts!