When my cousin came to see my new apartment this Fall I wanted her opinion on how I had arranged things in my new space. Our shared Greek roots combined with both being raised in New York assured me I would get an honest opinion which is what I wanted. Or so I thought.
When she told me in no uncertain terms she did not like the pillows on my couch, I was taken aback. Those pillows had been on my sofa for years, in three different apartments. I was attached to those pillows. And not just because I had spent a ridiculous amount of money on them in Domain, a now-defunct store I would wander through when I worked on 19th Street in the Flatiron district. Those pillows were not just decorative – they held memories. Along with too many to count friends and family members, they had witnessed laughter, tears, and occasional arguments on my sofa. Confidences and stories were shared in their presence.
My immediate reaction was to get protective of my pillows, to do all the things that I tell my students not to do when receiving what I like to call “tough love.” I wanted to defend that my pillows were still in good shape, pretty but never practical when it came to comfort. I wanted to hold on to them and not let go. Instead, I took a breath, I asked why and I listened.
As it turned out, my cousin had never liked the pillows. From her viewpoint, they were “too modern” for my taste.
My initial reaction was to forget about what she thought. This was my apartment. I could do what I wanted but the more I thought about it and really listened the more I realized she was right. At some point over the last five years, my tastes had shifted to my version of mid-century modern. Those pillows did not match that shift. In fact, when I looked around the rest of my living room they were the last vestiges of what my tastes had been.
After she left I started thinking about how different my living area would look with new pillows. I could bring in another color. New pillows could shift the energy of the space and make my existing furniture look fresh and new.
A couple of weeks and a trip to Home Goods later, those pillows were headed for the donation box. Their replacements were not only much more comfortable but cost far less than the originals.
I let go of something I had been holding on to long past its expiration date.
As 2024 comes to a close I am thinking a lot about those pillows. What else do I want to let go of as I step into 2025? What needs to be left behind? What changes can I make not just in my physical surroundings but in everything I do and how I do it that can usher in a new fresh energy in much the way my bargain olive green velvet pillows have brought to my living space?
I am not sure exactly what that will entail as this very tumultuous year comes to an end but I know it will start with small incremental steps towards more focus, more joy, more creativity, more daily acts of kindness, more conversation, and more listening – even when I am not sure I will like what I hear. Letting go of what was is never easy – until you do it and wonder what took you so long.
Wishing those who have taken the time to read this a joyous and healthy new year – one in which you let go of what is no longer serving you to make room for what will.
This article was originally published on Does This Make Sense on Substack. You can subscribe for free here.
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