letting go

I awoke this morning to the sound of my doorbell ringing shortly before 8am. Groggily, I approached the door and greeted two men from the Salvation Army. They were here to take away a dresser, two barstools, my desk since 9th grade, and my beloved hand-me-down, blue, beat-up couch. (Yesterday I gave away my two bookcases to the new high school ministry director at my church.) All things I had freely received from others, and decided to freely give to someone else who could hopefully make better use of them than I.

The combination of being sick the past few days, packing and cleaning (in preparation for moving day tomorrow), staying up late two nights in a row to watch Penn State outlast FSU and then (with great incredulity) witnessing the Longhorns win the Rose Bowl (followed by staying up even later trying to finish The Da Vinci Code—it was no use; I’ve still got 100 pages to go) has taken its toll on me.

Nevertheless, despite (or perhaps because of?) my worn-down state, I had no time to mourn the loss of the menagerie of furniture that has made all my past abodes “home”. Instead, I watched with a vacant stare as each item was carried out of my small apartment. When it was all over, I picked up the things that had gathered in the space hidden by the couch. Not much of note—some newspaper, tissues, envelopes, and my VCR remote. I stared at the typed receipt the men had left on the counter. The only tangible reminder of the things I used to call my own. After a minute, I put it down, walked into my bedroom and dressed for work.

(In case you are wondering if I have anything left…a tv/stand, mattress, boxspring, and bedside table still remain in my rapidly-becoming-unfurnished apartment.)