Taking just what we need into fall

Last month, we moved Dillon into a house for his junior year of college. I spent the afternoon setting up the kitchen, while he and Shawn assembled a dresser. Later, I took him to the grocery store.

I only teared up once, when we passed the buffalo sauce, because when he was home for the summer he told me he wanted buffalo chicken pizza, so I learned how to make it. Mom emotions are weird, man.

But as I watched him survey his grocery list and get the lay of the land, I felt a buzz of excitement for him. I clearly remember that time in my young adult life, like it was just yesterday. He goes to the same college his dad and I did, which adds to the familiarity.

Back at the house, as we were unpacking the groceries, I also noticed how good it felt to help him make his new place feel cozy and homey. One of the big reasons it felt that way was because he had just what he needed; no more, no less.

Earlier this summer, my daughter Cate and I traveled to Orlando so she could attend a dance convention. We spent 9 days in a hotel, which wasn’t amazing, but it was fine and comfortable enough.

I didn’t realize it until after we were back home, when I was standing in my closet trying to figure out what to wear, how easy it had been to get dressed every day in Orlando, because I’d packed just the right amount of mix-and-match outfits. Just what I needed. No more, no less.

All I’ve wanted to do since the kids went back to school is clean and declutter everything. I’m tackling the job in sections, and that’s only somewhat satisfying and mildly frustrating, because I hold onto the fantasy of having an endless stretch of time to focus solely on home-related things and not stop until it’s all done.

What helps reduce the false sense of urgency is this question I ask myself daily: How can I bring just what I need into this season of life, no more, no less?

I like to start with physical belongings, because that’s a tangible expression of the idea. It helps me pay closer attention to how I move through my everyday life… what do I reach for, gravitate toward, wish I had more time for, and want to make space for?

I remind myself that this isn’t a problem to be solved or another home-improvement project. It’s a way of being—the daily practice of noticing and adjusting accordingly.

May we all take just what we need into fall and into the days moving forward. No more. No less.