No matter how many declarations you've made, is there something you still need to be free of? If you're like me, you can take the cure and still not be entirely well, let go but still feel tied. Like Thomas Jefferson, you've probably travelled this weekend to escape the "excessive heats of the city." When your key turns in the lock again, how will you feel? Is your home a true haven too, or is there something there that holds you back, that doesn't represent who you are today?
As for me, my home is full of signposts pointing backward: photo albums, letters, cds I used to love. Some of it's worth keeping, but do I need to carry it all with me? Will my dear departed Papa Joe forgive me if I jettison the awkward little table he made by hand? Then, too, there are signposts to the future, to who'd I'd like to be: the person who's read that book, the one who grills and juices. Between who I was and will be, have I left enough space for the present?