My parents moved to Georgia to be near me and my sons in 1980 and eventually found a house almost as big, with a huge shed. Boxes and trunks were loaded into the shed, and never touched or opened until my mom died in 2015. By then, my sons had lives and homes of their own and I had the overwhelming job of clearing out everything my mother and father had kept.
It took two full years, four estate sales, many trips to the local thrift stores and just as many to the dump before we got the house cleared to sell. And of course, there were little trinkets from my childhood I couldn't bear to let go of, so my house filled up, too.
In August of this year I moved to a smaller house. I have given away carloads of clothes and bedding and furniture and dishes and I still have TOO MUCH STUFF.
Which brings me to tonight. I had this idea that I tried to turn into a pledge that I would open and deal with one box a day until there were no boxes left and no excess. At some point I got moved in enough to stop unpacking, and there the boxes sat. This week I started again and what I have discovered is not only do I have too much stuff, but most of it is pretty cool stuff with a whole history to it, and I don't have room for it. I bet my mom felt like that, too.