A Quiet Knowing - If I Empty it They Will Come

I've been enjoying the peacefulness that comes from living in a house that doesn't feel like a daycare zone. It is a little bit blissful to wander into a living room that isn't accessorized by a Little Tikes kitchen, a "princess corner", along with a wall lined with toys that don't fit into the toy cupboard. I can sit with my back to the ball house (which is too large to move out of the living room without being disassembled) and our house feels like a home again.

Bedroom doors are open, the cats are free to roam (and shed) all over the house again, with the exception of our #1 spare room (having three spare bedrooms is confusing, I know), where the queen guest bed resides. I've been opening up the blinds in the previously unused, closed off rooms and the sun is radiating through the house like never before.

We have so much space around us, it is ridiculous. Thank goodness I still have one daycare daughter to tend. She quite enjoys her new play space, access to the books and full run of most of the upstairs. She naps in the closed off spare room, so while I'm tending even one child I feel like I'm getting my money's worth out of our home's square footage.

I feel like I'm rediscovering our home all over again. As it was, when we first moved into this house I seem to find myself gravitating toward the room that started out as a TV room, then my room, then a spare room, then a quiet room and is presently labelled the "play room":

Notice the easy right-hand access to a coffee table, with the computer plugged into an easily accessible wall socket, with a futon adorned with multiple pillow options to support my back and neck (with a cat at my side which is always a pleasant accessory to add to any room). I grabbed the stool for some foot elevation, there is a TV on the wall opposite the futon and there is absolutely everything I need to create a cozy little retreat. It feels like the oasis I call my bedroom. I'm loving it in here!

I am seeing our house through new eyes these days. It is still in a state of transition and many of our rooms are undergoing a bit of an identity crisis but I continue to feel strongly that our house will soon be much too big for our needs.

I sit here and look at the room I'm savoring at the moment. Once all the daycare paraphernalia is removed, all that will remain is a dresser which contains items that could easily re-homed. The closet holds my income tax papers going back to the beginning of our lives here in Saskatoon. I don't believe Revenue Canada will ever ask me to go back 29 years for some document. In all honesty, all that closet requires is a huge, industrial sized personal shredder. This room could be of a no-name, generic variety in the course of a few short hours.

Our "official spare bedroom" holds some of my excess clothing. Clothes that never made the move to my new bedroom. Clothes that haven't been worn, needed or looked at for a year. A few garbage bags and a donation would clean out that closet in two shakes of a lamb's tail (what the heck is that, my fingers wonder as they type?). It is the two under-the-bed storage containers of memories, letters and sentimental belongings under the bed which may take the better part of a month to sort through. Other than that, another room could be de-personalized within an hour or less (if I just pack up those boxes and deal with them at a later date).

Our third spare bedroom was an appointed "office space" at one time. It holds a computer desk, a closet with a shelf or two of notes, letters and information I amassed while collecting stories for my parent's family's books-of-memories. This room contains all the books I have collected over the years, a filing cabinet which I had planned to fill with the required seven years of income tax documentation required by Revenue Canada, but instead it sits empty under a box which holds every income tax return my dad ever filed. I can't quite bear to rid myself of those documents. "There is a story within those documents" is what my quiet inner voice tells me. I hold onto Dad's paperwork for much the same reason I hold onto my own. It is a timeline of Dad's/my life's work. It is part of how I define myself and remember my dad. It may take a lot longer to empty that room. That "office space" holds much more than documents. It contains Dad's life's work and two family's books of memories. Maybe I need to find a vault to hold what this room contains. It is of no use or interest to anyone else but me.

I have one day to work this long, Thanksgiving weekend. I have another day to accumulate another week's worth of items to sell on my favorite on-line auction site. I have invited my family to come share a meal together under our roof on the third day. Thankfully I am not known for my culinary skills, so our meal will not take the entire day to prepare. So I can clean a little, cull a little and think about how I want to redefine our space within this home of ours.

When the clutter and excess are gone, the dressers and closets emptied of everything that is not essential what will be left? How much can I simplify this life of ours over the course of the next three months? How far can I go? And what am I making room for?

There is not one thing whispering in my ear telling me the answers I am seeking. I just keep looking within these walls of ours and hear "Purge and release"and "Make room for change". If I empty it, they will come ...

I'm living in "The Field House of Dreams". I don't know where I'm going but I know what I must do next. That is enough for now.