Dec 3, 2015 3 min read

The pumpkins were grand, but they had to go.

Every year, from late September to the first of November, the pumpkins adorned the front porch, standing guard at the top of the steps like two round, cackling clowns. They were jack o’lanterns carved from two tree trunks by an artist with a chainsaw. Every year, we rolled them out of the shed, placed them on the porch and stuck lights inside.

They were conversation pieces. This Halloween, I greeted princesses and ninjas. The little ones would ask where we found such big pumpkins (thinking they were garden grown), and the parents asked where we found such cool things.

As of this week, the two wooden beasts were still on the porch. We’d long since stopped lighting them, but hadn’t gotten around to moving them. They are heavy – I couldn’t do much more than tip them over and roll them, and the farmer has been hoping to never lift them again.

This is about more than just taking the pumpkins off the porch. This is about the mindset that comes with middle age. I’ve reached the point where I don’t really want to own much of anything.

Our house is feeling too big. With a kid in college and the other headed there in two years, all those bedrooms start to feel extraneous. If those couples on the tiny house shows can make do with a bed in their kitchen, we can do with a few hundred fewer square feet.

And so the farmer stands on a scaffold scraping paint from the exterior; I am peeling off layers inside. AMVETS will arrive tomorrow to find eight bags of clothing. Next up will be our clanging, exasperating cookware collection. Bits of furniture have been handed off to the college kid. Dittos TVs, lamps and our wok, which was too large to fit in any cabinet. Good riddance. We only used it once.

As items go out the front door, the back door is shut to all new acquisitions except food and personal grooming products. I look forward to the day I will throw in the towel and quit coloring my hair and wearing mascara. But I’m not there yet.

We put a tired old dresser on the curb last week. It had been in my daughter’s room since she was about 5. I think she and her friends used to hide in the bottom drawer. I may have heard them up there jumping on it a few times. It was falling apart, had lost its pulls and had some green and lumpy mystery goo stuck in the top drawer. We expected the trash men to take it, but it didn’t last that long. I returned from a walk to find someone claimed it.

It’s the circle of life. I’m hoping the dresser is with a new girl now – with shiny new knobs and the green goo scraped away. The pumpkins now reside with a friend who lives around the corner. She has more kids than I do, and some are younger. She also has a much bigger porch, so they’ll be right at home.

Me, I’m glad they are gone. I’m getting closer to my goal: By the time the house sells in a year or so, I would like to have very little to move. And someday after that, I’d like to own just a few things: my coffeemaker, my laptop, my bike and maybe a spoon or two.

Really, what more does a person need?