Goodbye, Stuff
A tribute to a favorite bedtime story, as we put to bed this life we have always known, and dream of something completely different
As we finalize our quest to leave the typical American Dream in the rearview mirror, we are selling or giving away most of our remaining possessions—everything leftover from last October’s big estate sale. In exchange, we are buying into a simple life as full-time nomads, preparing to live out of our truck and camper for the foreseeable future. We are trying to get it all done—the building of the rig and the dismantling of our lives, before winter sets in. Although we are in a rush to get on the road and our minds are in a bit of a frenzy, our little apartment is emptying out and quieting down. I half-expect to see someone in a rocking chair in the corner, whispering “hush.” It feels very much like the classic bedtime story, Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon.
But it is not just the few online classified ads and donation runs that are changing our landscape. Our whole world is being shaken down, sifted for the few essentials. We are choosing to leave behind the only life we’ve ever known.
In the one-bedroom flat
There was a sparkly dress
And a dusty space heater
And a corner with some boxes, a bit of a mess
And there were three big pans and a couple of fans
And two hanging shoe racks
And a pair of book stacks
And my favorite jeans
And some magazines
And three combs and a brush and some leftover mush
And a middle-aged couple in a bit of a rush
Goodbye dress
Goodbye mess
Goodbye stress, trying to deal with the mess
Goodbye racks
And the books in stacks
Goodbye pans
Goodbye fans
Goodbye favorite jeans
And goodbye magazines
Goodbye coffee mugs
And . . . goodbye friends’ hugs
Goodbye stuff
And goodbye fluff
Goodbye careers
And goodbye place
Goodbye Joneses
Goodbye chase
And goodbye to the life we’ve lived in haste
Goodbye roots
Goodbye stability
Goodbye limits on our mobility
Follow along, friends, as we prepare to drive away and leave it all behind. At the risk of mixing metaphors, we have untied most of the lines mooring us to the dock. Only one rope, looped over a rusted cleat, keeps us from drifting away.
The journey is about to begin, and although we have some general ideas of direction, we really have no idea where it will take us.
I will continue to write the stories here at Beauty and Truth Weekly.
My husband makes videos on YouTube: NomadicMidLife
Both of us contribute to the Instagram account: @nomadic.midlife
For the bigger picture, check our website: nomadicmidlife.com
And one more thing. May I ask a favor? We are doing something fairly unique here, setting off as nomads to wander the world without a home base—in our fifties, instead of our twenties. I would love to be able to share our experiences with a wider audience. If this or one of my other stories here has resonated with you, would you be willing to share it? It doesn’t cost you anything to read these stories, so consider this as your contribution. If you could share my writing when you find it helpful, insightful, poignant, and/or amusing, that would be great. Oh, look, here’s a share link. How convenient!
And if you or your friends would like to subscribe, so you don’t miss out on any of the beauty and truth along the journey, that would be great, too. Oh, would you look at that! It’s a subscribe link:
Thanks, friends. Much love to you all.
Next week, I will be addressing the topic of comfort. In what ways do we seek out being comfortable? Is it a healthy pursuit? Is the pursuit of comfort the same as the pursuit of happiness? Are we entitled to either one? I am already looking forward to your comments, so start musing on the topic now. I trust it will be an interesting conversation.
I can't imagine this. I've packed and downsized and changed locations but not like that. I thought you were going to the Middle East or something before driving south?