There’s an extraordinary amount of stuff.
I recently helped my parents with what will likely be their final move.
For two elderly people, they own as much as a family of four—maybe more.
Honestly, it’s far too much. It feels as if they’re paying rent just to store their belongings.
And the surprising part is that they seem to think this is perfectly normal. It’s a serious situation.
In the end, everything comes back to me
It’s not pleasant to think about, but someday my parents will pass away.
Right now, that day still feels distant, which is probably why I can write about it like this.
But there’s no doubt that the person who will eventually face those mountains of unopened
cardboard boxes will be me—whether in a few years or a decade.
Knowing my personality,
I’ll probably just hand everything over to a cleaning service and have it all disposed of.
Before that happens, I need to get them to reduce their belongings as much as possible while they’re still alive.
Otherwise, it will become an absolute nightmare.
Digitizing doesn’t seem to work
Old photos. My grandparents’ notebooks. Books they probably wrote.
I suggested digitizing them and letting go of the physical copies, but the response I got was something like:
“Hmm… but still…”
It felt like talking to an elementary schooler.
Maybe this is simply a difference between the digital generation and the analog generation.
They want to hold onto physical objects—things they can touch— not just data.
Isn’t a box unopened for 14 years just trash?
Apparently not.
It’s more mysterious than the Seven Wonders of the World.
My parents have moved twice—once 14 years ago, and again this year.
And from that first move until now, they brought every single unopened cardboard box with them.
I was speechless.
When I asked, “You haven’t opened these in 14 years. Isn’t this just trash?”
They replied, “No, no. I’ll sort through it later.”
Another answer somehow worse than a child’s.
At this rate, those boxes will probably remain untouched for another 14 years.
Maybe they simply can’t throw things away
I think this is a generational thing.
My grandfather and father were both the type to say, “It’s wasteful to throw things away.”
My grandfather lived through the war and knew real scarcity. I don’t intend to criticize that mindset.
My father inherited it, and as their descendant, that same blood runs through me.
The one difference is that I live in an era of abundance.
Both my wife and I lean minimalist
I wouldn’t call myself a minimalist, but both my wife and I generally own very few things.
This is one area where I truly feel marrying my wife was the best decision. If she were a maximalist, I’d probably have gone crazy—or run away.
She loves clothes, so she has a bit more in that area. And I’m a maximalist when it comes to camera gear.
But aside from those necessary items, we own very little unnecessary stuff. I hope we can keep living that way.
Through my parents’ move.
I thought about giving away Norio Sasaki’s We Don’t Need Things Anymore, but that thought vanished in an instant.
because giving them a book would simply add more stuff.
Still, this book is what pushed me toward minimalism and becoming a “simplist.”
I still revisit the PDF version from time to time.
With our own move coming up soon, I think I’ll take another look at the things around me.
