The Great Purge

Undertaking a simplifying of our life and a purge of our belongings sounds refreshing. The kitchen was pared down with ease, clothing didn't pose as much of a problem as I had imagined; then came the books. Oh, the books, laden with love and memories. Heavy with knowledge imparted, solace afforded, and companionship during my loneliest times. I thumb through them, first only keeping what I hope my kids will read and expand with, praying they love to read the way I love to read, knowing it can open a whole world of possiblities to them. How do I thank and release something that can mean and give so much. I automatically move Ayn Rand as far from the give away pile as possible, I linger over my Atwood and Murakami collection with angst flowing out of my fingertips. Keep the classics, allow them to find their way through literature as I did, blind a little, eager always. But, what if they never decide to read the Chosen because it never crosses their paths, or they think We the Living outdated for our times. What if they never pick these up on their own but would have read them readily available on the shelves at home.
I am reminded, books on shelves are dormant. Sadly depriving others their gifts as they collect dust in my living room. We keep our Steinbeck collection as our literary common ground. Sean and I often like opposite circles of music and literature, but I relish the sweet spots where our passions overlap, I enjoy them much more knowing we've read or listened together.
I am egged on by this need for our lives and home to be simplistic, as our schedules and everything else surrounding us feels chaotic most the time. I dream of an easily tidied home, a place for everything, even the plastic army men the boys had long forgotten they had, but which are now strewn across the kitchen floor. This may be an exercise in futility, but one I am sure we ought to undertake. Surely Marie Kondo did not mean for us to rid ourselves of C.S. Lewis!!!