Packing light and Letting go!

 There’s something holy about sorting through your life one drawer at a time.

Packing up isn’t just about what fits in a box—it’s about what no longer fits in your story.

As we prepare to move into the caravan, we’re surrounded by piles of things—useful, sentimental, absurd. Some spark memories, others guilt. Some haven’t been touched in years but still whisper, You might need me again one day…

Letting go is a strange kind of grief.

It’s not about throwing out clutter—it’s about releasing versions of yourself you no longer are. The woman who bought that dress for a life she never lived. The cookbooks for meals never made. The duplicate dish towels for parties that didn’t happen.

This isn’t about minimalism.

It’s about meaning.

And truthfully, there’s freedom in asking, “Do I want to carry this forward?”

Because this next season needs space—not just in the caravan, but in my soul.

Space for new moments. For quiet mornings with coffee and birdsong. For my mother’s humming. For laughter around a fold-out table.

Packing light is more than a practical choice.

It’s a declaration.

I don’t need all that to feel full.

I just need what matters.

Did something here speak to you?

Leave a comment if you feel moved, or simply sit with me in quiet.

If you’d like to walk this road with me, follow Nomadic Grandmother for new stories.

— x Elsabe