Keep or Toss, no stories.

My 30-year-old sister recently came and did something no one should attempt without a strong relationship: she helped me clean out my closet.

By “helped,” I mean she took everything out and then proceeded to ask questions I apparently wasn’t prepared to answer.

“When was the last time you wore this?”

“Why are you keeping it?”

“Are you 70? Because this makes you look 70.”

“Do you really need four black shirts?”

Apparently, I did not recruit a closet organizer, but a person with absolutely no sentimental attachment to my clothing.

We discovered shoes from circa 2014. Some were literally falling apart. Some shirts had holes or had pilled beyond redemption. Wool shrunk. Some things needed replacing, and some things I loved had to be banished anyway.

And then there were the things I had been keeping simply because I had always kept them.

It got me thinking about September.

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, traditionally falls in September. It is a time of reflection, renewal and taking stock.

What still serves a purpose?

What am I holding onto simply because I’ve always held onto it?

What no longer fits or flatters?

What needs to be replaced, upgraded—or passed along to someone else?

We’ve been asking many of those same questions in our house this week.

We’re staging our home to sell and looking for a new one. Because of my wheelchair, there is so much of this house I can no longer access. Moving means decluttering on a much larger scale than one closet.

“Keep or toss. No stories,” my mom reminds me as she does the brunt of this work for me.

And she’s right.

After 14 years in one house, sometimes you don’t need to hold something, thank it for its service and wait for it to spark joy.

Sometimes you just need to look at it and say, “Why on earth do we still have this?”

Then put it in the box.

This isn’t only about what we’re getting rid of. It’s about making room for what comes next.

So what am I keeping?

My faith. My family. Laughter. Piano. Embroidery. The little ordinary things that make life feel like ours.

And hope for whatever house—and whatever chapter—comes next.

The rest?

Well…

My sister and mom have already made their opinions clear.