Like this:

I just waved good-bye to our Bed, Bath & Beyond roomful of nickel plated lamps as if they were our children marching off to their first day of school.  I also sold (to the same woman) this rug I’d purchased five years ago at Costco, and as the rug and the lamps pulled away from the driveway I had this feeling that I’d made a horrible mistake.  I wanted to go running down the street to get my things back.  How is it that your possessions become the vessels of your memories? I have  crystal clear memory of our first apartment when I see that rug, and to be honest I don’t like it any longer.  And the roomful of lamps could be purchased again tomorrow at the same store.  They’re replaceable and yet I still feel like I’ve lost them.  They are just valueless, cluttering things, and yet they can remind you of events and people the way a certain smell can.    An unexpected moment of zen amid the decluttering, readying organization of launching ourselves into travel orbit.

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