Meredith’s Musings | A Reconsideration of Space

article by MEREDITH MCKINNIE

With the warming temps, we crave outdoor activities and cleared indoor spaces. I, for one, dive headfirst into spring cleaning. Admittedly, I’m a cleaner by nature; my philosophy is that bringing something new into the house necessitates taking something out. Little gives me more satisfaction than handing over something I no longer need to someone else. But this spring, as I clamor through closets, cabinets, and garage catchalls, I had an epiphany. I do this every year. I clear out space to inevitably fill it back up again, at least partially. If I’m honest with myself, I’d rather it just remain clear.

I’ve never been one to associate sentimentality with material possessions. When my grandmother passed in 2012, a friend became alarmed that I was giving away Mamaw’s stuff. I had no use for it. I equate stuff with function, and if it’s only function is to be cleaned out later, why bother? I don’t need Mamaw’s stuff to remember her; she exists in my thoughts and memories; she lives on in my heart. Tripping over her clothes or trinkets would not contribute positively to her memory – not for me anyway. I felt the same when my sister passed in 2023. I did keep one cheap canvas of Audrey Hepburn’s face, that Sister no doubt bought at a thrift store. It has a haphazard coffee stain in the bottom left corner, and I smile looking at the semblance of messiness. That’s how I remember my sister – one big ball of beautiful, complicated mess. I think even she would agree. But nonetheless, Mom and I donated almost all of her belongings – where they went didn’t matter.

As Americans we are blessed with tons of space – living space, outdoor space, yard space, but I don’t understand our fascination with filling it. And don’t misunderstand me – I do it too. I’ve Pinterest-perfected my house so many times I’ve lost count. But the dichotomy of how we use and respect space versus what I saw in Europe astounded me. Europeans, at least those in the cities, need and have little to no home space. They frequently live in apartment buildings and spend less time there than outside the home. Hence, there is less isolation and turmoil. They co-exist peacefully because they have to. They are literally on top of one another. And yet, they seem to be laughing incessantly.

When I spend time in my big house or in my big yard, it’s typically just me and my immediate family. We’ve built our own little bubble. We have neighbors whose names we don’t even know. Waving hello sometimes feels like too much of an intrusion into their privacy. We peek out from our fancy windows to see people behind their fancy windows and we are the loneliest country on earth. Living in these self-constructed silos negates the reality and function of community. We have to seek it out, and as we get older, it gets harder. Even with my best friends of 20+ years, most of our interactions occur over the phone.

I’ve come to equate unnecessary space with distance, and filling that space creates barriers to entry. I don’t foresee myself abandoning the home I love or the yard I fill with flowers – I am American to the core. But I am trying to be more intentional with how I use my space and create opportunities to share it. I don’t want to exist in this artificial paradise absent of people and connection. So this Spring, while clearing out my gathering spaces, I am focusing on opportunities to swap stuff for faces, replace trinkets with voices, and bring community into my home. Instead of my home just looking like an entertaining space, I want to actually entertain there more. I want to welcome the people, the messy, complicated, beautiful people and the light they bring. I want to create more memories rather than collect more things. Having the space to gather is a privilege; embracing those opportunities means leaving room for the light to come in.