Lately, big changes have been brewing in Wisconsin, and we’ve decided to make the mountains our home. So we met with an agent on Thursday and listed the Wisconsin house for sale. After signing with the agent, I went home and ate cookies and sniffled. In fact, I may have even cried.

I love our home in Wisconsin. Specifically, I love the beautiful hickory floors, the vaulted cedar ceilings, the oak parquet in my study, and the 1940’s vintage linoleum in my bedroom. (I would also say that I love my garden, but I’m taking part of the garden with me.)

It occurs to me that if my sense of loss is all about the hardwood, we can easily get hardwood floors in our next house. We can get reclaimed maple, eco-friendly bamboo, or even old-style linoleum (made with sawdust and linseed oil!).

It’s strange that I’m so attached to the wood floors in my old house, because most of the “things” in the house I can easily let go. Much of my furniture has already been donated to the good people at Easter Seals, who came by and picked up two oak dressers, a vintage table, four pressed-back chairs, and a lamp. One of the custodians at my university–a single dad with a musical daughter–happily accepted a piano, a coffee table, two bookcases, and a giant, towering cactus. The local Goodwill store received my tools, a whole closetful of clothes, several baskets of unwanted yarn, and a couple hundred books. Mariah, who cared for my cats when I lived in Scotland, now has an antique cupboard, a bed, a DVD player, and a sewing machine.

I’m leaving a few pieces of mismatched furniture in the house to stage it for sale, and the rest of my possessions, including my favorite perennials, will fit nicely into a 10 ft moving truck.

There’s something very liberating about letting go of things–about knowing what you don’t need and what you truly love.