Material Concerns

I am a minimalist. I live in a little studio apartment. I enjoy living this way. I curate what I keep in my small space. I don’t consider myself to be very materialistic. I collect selectively. I don’t amass things for the sake of having things. I try to surround myself with beauty, and with meaning. I get rid of a lot of things. I make old things into new things. I don’t judge people who live their lives surrounded by a plethora of things. I would feel as if I were drowning if I lived that way. Perhaps they would feel as if they lived in stark emptiness if they lived in my space. My space is far from stark though. It is similar to a tiny art gallery or the modestly sized apartment of an eccentric older woman living in the Village in New York City. (That last description isn’t far off.) I’m not overly sentimental about many material objects, though I have kept several items that are special to me including a few framed pieces of artwork from my son’s younger days. Most of the objects I use almost daily are beautiful and deliciously functional. I’m picky and I’m okay with that. I may even boast about it from time to time. Some objects are more like horcruxes. My father’s denim shirt holds a bit of his spirit. I wear it as a house sweater. I feel his presence and remember his love when I wear it. I’ll be grateful for its presence as long as it lasts. I’ll make something else out of it when it eventually becomes too worn to wear. I won’t be sad when it’s gone. I’ll tuck its memory and its connection behind my left ear, the one that has a pointy Spock section just like my dad’s did, and I’ll remember my dad with a grateful sigh every time I tuck my hair behind my ear.

Cinse Bonino
2024