Burning House

I came across this blog yesterday called “The Burning House.” Each day it posts a photo someone has taken of the few things they would grab as they ran out if their house caught on fire. It’s fascinating to get this little glimpse into someone’s life and their priorities. The pictures are full of photo albums, old love letters, favorite items of clothing, musical instruments, art, and other prized possessions. Looking through the entries, it’s clear that this was a very personal process for many people and it struck me because… I did this and for me, it wasn’t.

Let me back up. As part of its security procedures, my organization requires me to have a “quick-run bag” packed at all times that I could just grab and leave with immediately. The idea is that, in a real emergency situation, you don’t want to be wondering where you put that doohickey or how many pairs of underwear you are going to need.

In my bag is: a few changes of clothing, my radio, a couple of bottles of water, some energy bars, some water purification tablets, a toiletries bag with medicines, cash in SDG and USD, my passport, a book, and an external hard drive with a back-up of my files.

It’s not personal and it’s not pretty, but I love that I have this bag packed. I love the idea that I could pick up that bag and walk out of my home, never come back, and that would be okay. It’s freeing to look at everything else that I own, all things I like and all things that make me comfortable, but know that they are all things I don’t need. I could leave without any of it.

This might be weird, but I think it would be great to still have a quick run bag when John and I live in Suburban, Wherever. Okay, I know we’re not going to need it; I’m not going all Glenn Beck on you, but I think it is beautiful and healthy to be able to imagine myself walking out of whatever nice house we live in with just the essentials and knowing, I will be okay. Even when I’m old, I want to be able to look around my house and the lifetime of things I’ve accumulated and still say, “That book there is my favorite thing I’ve ever read. But I don’t need it. That framed picture? A lovely memory, but not necessary for life. This exotic art from Timbuktu? Cool, but you know, whatever.” I always want to be able to walk away with nothing more than my husband and my bag.

I suspect I’ll really have my priorities in order when I can say that sentence… without the bag.

­-Stephanie

Photo courtesy of The Burning House