Unless you happened to look closely before yesterday, you wouldn’t know that the empty cubby used to hold more cookbooks. A few are already packed up for the move, but most are in the recycle pile.

The same is true of this book case. Books in poor condition, books not opened in years, and books that can bring joy to others have been removed. What’s left is an emptiness that’s taken up residence between what remains. What has been present in my living space is absent.

No longer present, Absent, is not the same thing as leaving a Void behind. This Absent isn’t removing anything vital or necessary; instead, it’s leaving room to see more clearly what is left – and offering me a chance to see if what remains is truly vital or necessary. Absent relieves my arms of lugging heavy boxes that crowd my living space; Absent also relieves me of the weight that too many possessions places on my mind and soul.