Space and Stuff

We all simply occupy space with our stuff. It seems like we all have too much stuff and not enough space. When I decided to move to Brazil three years ago, I looked around my fully furnished home and asked, "Man, what am I going to do with all this? I worked really hard to get all this."

In about 30 seconds I replied, "It's just SPACE and STUFF."

And so the adventure to Rio de Janeiro from Cambridge, MN began. For three years, I've done relatively well at keeping the amount of stuff to a minimum. I live in a modest apartment with modest furnishing, and I am continuously passing on my stuff to someone else who wants it, needs it, would use it, appreciates it.

But something happened this weekend that slightly shifted my reference to my stuff. For the first time since living in Brazil I actually had the thought: I don't want to leave "that" behind. I'll take it with me where ever I end up going.

What is it? You may ask (assuming anyone is actually reading this post now).

This is the thing that prompted that thought last weekend. A table and two chairs. The table and two chairs that sit on the veranda of my apartment. The table and two chairs where we have our breakfast, lunch and dinner. The table and two chairs where I drink my morning coffee. The table and two chairs that have listened to hours of me playing the guitar. The table and two chairs that have supported numorous backgammon games. This table and chairs that was was a hand-me-down from my friends Jennifer and Valdir two years ago.

This table and chairs moved to the top of the container list should a move ever happen because last weekend this table and chairs got a little facelift. I unfortunately do not have a before picture; this photo is the after shot. A fresh coat of stain and it's new again.

But the important thing that it taught me: stuff is always stuff. I would liquidate my house all over again for the right move. It's the memory I now hold on to of sanding and cleaning and then painting them with great company on a lazy, dreary, cloudy Saturday afternoon that I get to hold on to forever. Whether the table and chairs make it into the container or not.