27 May 2026

This was the photo taken as proof of collection by the man who came to pick up my donation of clothes and bits for charity this morning. 

I liked the fact that one of my bare feet is just visible in his picture, heading back into the house for more. 

On the doorstep in his shot is only a small number of the bags I gave away. Why does it feel so good to get rid of things? Even things one has valued? 

I tell myself that it makes me lighter in the world. Less encumbered by stuff. Stuff that my mother would refer to dismissively as 'just wêreld se goedere' (ironically for someone who accumulated an awful lot of worldly goods in her life).

I also tell myself that being lighter in the world is good because it makes me more ready to leave at a moment's notice. This is a learned behaviour from a lifetime of moving (my first country move at the age of 3 months). A built-in vigilance, preparedness for uprooting. 

I'm not unaware by any means of the gifts of a lifetime of moving, but this appreciation also lies in direct contradiction to my longing for a home of my own - somewhere I can (finally?) put down roots.

Meanwhile this home, like the other I get to inhabit, continues to be a source of daily gratitude. Neither belong to me. Both are impermanent. But focusing on what you have in the moment, as opposed to what you lack, is a key to a healthier mind.

I don't think the charity man had any idea of the symbolism that would speak to me about my foot on the open threshold and the bags on the doorstep.