The beige and brown welcome sign outside of our front door is cute

And in vain

A dormant formality

If you can even call it that

A supposed homey touch to my parents’ quaint abode

And yet, outside of close family

No one may come in

This time it is because of size

A small apartment squishing in a family of four

And the belongings of those family

Bags and bags wrapped each month

Instead of each year

The “Mayers” name has become synonymous with “Claus” for the Salvation Army

“Minimalism” as well

At least as minimalist as a 20 year-old young woman and a 53 year-old older woman with an extensive wardrobe can be

Even before the downsize, maximizing space has become a familial way of life

The prior townhouse which was almost the precursor for our next dwelling

You would maximize space by minimizing guests

An alien practice

Given that in the dwelling prior, which had three floors worth of space

4 including the basement

5 including the big backyard with the wide patio,

Hosted many gatherings and overnight endeavors that would make you question the entirety of our current behaviors

A past practice that started all the way at our first domicile

The only place for a long time I was truly able to call home

Even in fond memory

A home that taught me love

A home that taught me family-oriented care

A home that taught me intelligence is bliss

Gave me a scholarly basis before I found out that it comes in other forms

A home that taught me to embrace my child-like pleasures

And the kind personality that comes with those joys

Those qualities became the gateway for me to grow as a person and know when to put myself first

Now, in my current “home”, my family uses “minimalism” to breed ease

For myself, I would rather maximize my qualities, my pleasures and kindred tethers in anyway I can

Just as my first home welcomed me to do for myself