Things

Our house is becoming very empty. It's almost like camping in our own house. The kids sleep on air matresses, the chairs are taken from under us, tomorrow the sofa goes and the dinner table will soon follow. We sell everything through Ebay. But even though I love the idea of recycling (and almost everything was secondhand to begin with anyway), I still find it a bit weird and sad that pieces of our life here disappear bit by bit and will never exist again in the same combination. Pieces of us, spreading throughout Sydney, ready for a new life on their own. A bit like donating organs, really. (But not quite that dramatic.) When I shared these thoughts with Hugo, his not so sentimental answer was: 'They're just things. I never really think about things.'