Breathing Out

     Life has been, for the past couple years, the accumulation of things that make me comfortable. I left for school six years ago with a used vacuum cleaner, a mirror, a couple plastic bins that I used as a nightstand, and a blow up mattress that let air out slowly over the course of the night and left my feet sticking up over a pocket of air and my head jammed against the floor. Fast forward six years later and I had a nice apartment that I paid for without the help of my parents, nice furniture, TV, and a car that worked (although with a series of quirks such as no handles on the inside, making crawling out of the driver side window an awkward but necessary means of escape).
     I guess I'm bringing this up because the next month for me is all about giving things up. In order for me to leave the country and start this new part of my life I have to give up all of those things I worked for over the past six years. My last month in my apartment I realized the futility of trying to pawn off my stuff to my parents for the year that I'll be away. Plus I needed whatever money I could before I left. So I sold off all of my stuff, bit by bit.
     When my couches were gone I dragged in my damp porch chairs to sit on. When my TV was gone I stacked books on my entertainment center. My dvds I gave away to friends and everything else that I couldn't throw in the back of my car I left out at the curb.
     My last night in Tallahassee I slept on the floor of my living room in a sleeping bag. The counters were wiped down, the floor mopped and the walls were plastered over. My apartment which was packed with 'things' a month before was empty. I learned something that night. Everything I cared about, the things that were really valuable to me, could fit in the back of my truck.
     So now I'm breathing out. Letting go of the things that don't matter so I can make room for the things that do.