It began like a first friendship, a little uncertainty, a bit of hesitancy, and even a tad distrust. Yet, once I opened the door to my new friend Minimalism, she wouldn’t leave, and the deeper she bled into my life, the less I wanted her to go.
True friends do that, seep into your life, comfort, hold your hand, even push when all you want to do is quit.
Minimalism took my shoe one day, and tossed it out the door, then helped me bend over to pick up the other. I cringed, and growled. I held it tight in my fist.
She smiled. “You’ll feel better,” she said, prying the shoe from my fingers. Just like a true friend, always knowing what’s best for you.
She led me to my closet, held my hand as I chose clothes I no longer wore, picking out torn shirts and ratty jeans.
“Really?” I asked. “I have to let go of these?”
“Feel the joy of less,” she said, dropping shirts and pants inside a big black bag.
She led me to the coat closet, turned her nose up as I tried on coat after coat, nodding at the ones that fit nice and looked good on me.
“Only wear what you love,” she told me.
Minimalism helped me pull old boxes from a closet, sort through ornaments once owned by little boys now grown and gone. She wiped tears from my cheeks, and stayed by my side as I sorted through cards and old letters.
“It’s okay to let go,” she reminded me. “Memories are inside you. But sometimes, it’s okay to hang on, too.” I placed most everything in a bag, putting the remainder back in the drawer.
Together we sorted through utensils and old dishes.
“See how easy cooking will be? See how quickly you will get done?”
She taught me the art of simple meals, and creating whole, healthy foods.
Minimalism remained as I placed candles and knick-knacks in a box.
“Did you ever use those?” she asked.
She didn’t leave my side as I hung on to craft items till the very end. Because a friend never leaves. They want to see you change and grow. And she was there the day I finally did.
Minimalism exercised with me, taught me simple routines that made me stronger than before.
She opened my checkbook, showed me a simple way to budget, and how to save even more.
“Look, without all that extra shopping, your savings is growing,” she said.
Minimalism went to the store with me, and helped me quickly pick what I needed.
“Shopping is fast now!” she exclaimed.
She unfriended my ‘friends’ on social media who weren’t ‘friends’ at all, and cleansed that which no longer served me. She helped me find time I didn’t know I had.
Minimalism opened my eyes to useless television and movie watching, to doing things that didn’t make me a better me. She handed me a book, and brought me to the library. She taught me to read more, and look at media less. She showed me how much there was to learn in this world, and how I could find it.
My friend Minimalism taught me to appreciate what I have, and not long for more.
She reminded me of who I once was, and who I am today, and that, in many ways, we are still the same. Creativity that once lived is still there, the desire for a simple life remains. The outdoors is a step away, walking along a brook, dipping toes in the sea, another friend, just waiting for me.
My friend bleeds from one part of my life to the next. I never know where I will see her, but I know she will never leave.
And she bleeds.