Present Over Perfect

years, and the simplicity and focus brings me great joy.
When we moved from Grand Rapids back to Chicago, I
brought dishes upon dishes. I was never a crazy clothes
shopper, or even a wild accumulator of home stuff, but
dishes were my absolute downfall. I had sets upon sets, half
sets, specialized sets—four bowls and a serving bowl for
pasta, dozens of tiny dessert plates, a truly insane amount of
champagne flutes I’d accumulated over the years,
mismatched and colorful.
My dear cousin persuaded me to part with everything
that wasn’t white, glass, silver, or wood, with the exception
of my red Le Creuset cookware—the kitchen equivalent of
my love for blue clothing. We boxed up green and purple
dishes, hand-painted harlequin-print serving ware, a whole
set of lavender enameled-tin plates and bowls, and kept only
white plates, clear juice glasses, and white serving platters.
My cousin promised that the simplicity of it would bring
me joy, and it absolutely did. Our kitchen since then has
been filled only with things we use and love, things that all
go together, things that are easily and cheaply replaced if
they break.
In the kitchen, in the closet, and throughout the rest of
the house, I kept finding that the more I let go of, the
happier I was. It almost seemed like the less stuff there was
in our home, the more freely I could breathe, the more
deeply I was able to think.
It makes sense to me, because, as in so many other
areas, I’ve always loved the way we interact with our stuff at