Autumn is a liminal time for me, a place where we move from one state of being into another. Most of my life, its been a time of massive energy, a shifting from the languid days of summer into the purpose full days of the harvest. For years the pattern was set by the return to school, with its formalized schedule and targeted knowledge absorption. Then it was office work, where clients themselves would come back from vacations, ready to face their duties again, and bringing me in to assist.

This year is the same, and yet very different. I’m writing this from a week-long holiday in — of all places — Maui, Hawaii, My sister and I conceived of this getaway, just the two of us, in early ’21. Its been a lovely vacation (‘tho I miss my husband, fiercely) and I’m glad we could have this quiet time together. (Also, the snorkeling has been especially nice. I’ve missed it.)

When I return home, its to a huge task: selling nearly all our possessions.

We’re keeping some mismatched dishware and utensils, the “good” cookware (which will eventually go into storage), and some bakeware. Sheets and towels, a dresser, our desks (and associated computer and office equipment), two chairs, a side table, and the TV. Everything else goes to auction.*

Its a strange feeling. Both that we will be about as possession free as possible when still needing to live here until late November (about two months), and that all that we keep is actually necessary. Part of me feels lost at the thought, as if I’m plunged into some morass of poverty. (“I have so little because I can’t afford more.”) Part of me feels freed, suddenly and finally unburdened from the necessity of caring for all the things. If it remains post-auction, it must be needed to live. What does that feel like?

I’ll be finding out.

* We’ll be sleeping on the Murphy bed in what used to be the guest room.