As the secular year draws to a close and we step across the threshold into 2026, I feel a quiet, persistent urge to lighten my load. It may be a response to the constant bombardment of troubling world news, or simply a natural turning inward as time moves forward. For me, lightening my load looks like less paperwork, fewer pairs of shoes, more trips to donate clothing, and a thoughtful reckoning with the “needless things” saved as memorials to moments long past. This isn’t about erasing history. It’s about choosing what truly matters.
People who know me and my beloved collection of vintage antiques, textiles, and folk art might be surprised to learn that I’m ready to step away from much of what is stored in boxes in the basement. I look around my home now and realize that the joy these objects still give me is nudging me toward rediscovering what things are most important. Framed photographs and found objects are carefully tucked into drawers and boxes, waiting to be shared with my grandchildren. I think of my father, who always visited us bearing gifts of his own antiques discovered on his adventures, each one welcomed, housed, and displayed with love. My brother and I pass things on to our kids and grandkids as a way of sharing our memories. My childhood Chickering piano will soon be delivered to my son Zak’s family in Detroit, and the lovely space it leaves behind is already sparking joy.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the idea of a fast getaway. If we had to leave at a moment’s notice with only one big bag, what would we take? A lock box of important documents, of course. Comfortable clothes. Glasses, medications, a phone and charger. Cosmetics and hair care need their own zip bags. Perhaps a few photographs, brushes and watercolors, markers, pens, a notebook, and several meaningful objects like my children’s first attempts at ceramic bowls, or my mother’s jewelry that I wear daily.
Clarity emerges when we imagine life reduced to one trunk or bag. We don’t need dozens of duplicates, piles of paper, or items kept “just in case.” What we need are things that serve us now: a clear, organized place for paperwork; a desk or table that invites calm rather than clutter; a small collection of books we truly love; art and photographs that speak to us without overwhelming us. Smaller spaces don’t necessarily diminish our lives. Often, they enrich and refine them.
These matters become especially poignant for an adult moving into a new JSL apartment. What can be left behind? What do we choose to accompany us and bring joy in the years ahead? This can be one of life’s most tender transitions. Letting go requires discernment and perspective. When we choose only what’s necessary, meaningful, and comforting, we aren’t losing our past, we’re preserving it wisely. Many JSL residents who have downsized, speak of an unexpected sense of freedom: less to manage or worry about, and more room to breathe. Others compromise. Some have pack-rat storage units, where we faithfully pay rent to store the treasures our children swear they don’t want yet may someday feel oddly attached to.
At this time of year, we’re thinking about gift-giving and the holidays. New possessions can add to clutter and quietly take up scarce space. Gifts need not be additions to our worldly things. Some of the best gifts are a handwritten letter, a shared memory, a tin of homemade mandelbread, or a treasured belonging passed along with a story. Recently, our staff in the West Wing exchanged “white elephant” gifts drawn from our own collections, humorous or meaningful, personal, and deeply appreciated.
Decluttering advice has become an industry of its own, with experts ready to consult. Imagine all our possessions and keepsakes fitting into one closet or chest of drawers. Clutter can create chaos, and we don’t need to carry it all with us. What would we keep if we had to choose? Sometimes, in making more space, we discover something unexpected and valuable waiting for us.
May these days of decision offer us clarity, lightness, and a deep sense of freedom. Wishing everyone a safe and happy 2026.
Shabbat Shalom