Holding On, Letting Go


After last night’s going away extravaganza, which featured such delectables as bacon-wrapped bacon, vegetables with an addictive bacon dip, mini BLTs, and bacon baklava, I’m ready to let go of bacon for quite some time.  Embrace salad, that’s going to be my motto for today.

But it’s a lot harder to let go of the sweet friends who put all that bacon together, along with the layered smoked salmon canapés topped with a roe mosaic, the tiny tarts with figs or raspberries nestled in creamy clouds, the warm carrot fritters with their mysterious hint of banana, the beautiful cheese and charcuterie platter, the “may I just eat this with a spoon?” warm seafood dip, the hot fudge sundaes with three ice creams and two luscious sauces, and the stunning cocktails with names like French Pearl, Lapin Agile, and my personal favorite, Wicked Kiss.  By personal favorite I mean that I had more than one of those, and let me tell you, if you’ve never had bacon-wrapped bacon with a Wicked Kiss, you have missed something special.  Have I mentioned an urgent need to embrace salad today?

As we pack and sort and sift our way through every single thing we own,  we’re forced to think all day long about holding on and letting go.  It’s hard to fathom why some things slip so easily into the bags destined for the thrift store, and others stubbornly cling to me.  A little carved Polish box that I’ve carted around from home to home for the past 35 years suddenly is easily let go.  It’s spent the past 6 years tucked into a drawer, all but forgotten, like the man who gave it to me.  The flower wreath from my wedding day hair has been dried and crisp for 13 years, something I used to find charmingly nostalgic.  Now I look at it closely and see some dried fragments of vegetable matter wrapped around wire trailing a few ivory-colored ribbons, and into the trash it goes.  I’ve held onto the husband for 13 years, the wreath’s done its job, and I let it go without a tear. 

Things matter, and then they don’t.  It’s a hard choice, how much of the past to save for the future.  Even something like letting go of the bacon is easier said than done.  I’m probably sitting on it right now, in fact, and will regret that fact when I’m scrunched into an airplane seat for umpteen hours. 

Holding on to people over time and distance is easier said than done too.  Those of you that I love, and I hope you know who you are, I’m holding you tight and taking you with me.  All the rest is just stuff.

Explore posts in the same categories: The Road To France

3 Comments on “Holding On, Letting Go”

  1. Malarkey Says:

    Wow, having recently moved to a much smaller space, I can really relate. I still have stuff I need to get rid of, and this after getting rid of all kinds of stuff I’d been hanging onto for years. What goes and what stays is still tossing back & forth in my head, as I try to deal with what followed me here!

    Your writing is great, Abra! I love your sentiments about “stuff” and what it means to let it go, or save it for another day. As I said before, Bon Voyage, looking forward to your ongoing adventures!

  2. Michel Says:


    You’ll be happy to know there is bacon in France, though not the same as what we get here in the US. Look for lardons in the butcher shop and you’ll be very, very happily rewarded.
    Keep up the great writing, Bon Voyage!

  3. Tamara Says:

    You captured the sense of moving on so well. I love the freedom that comes with giving up my stuff, thought he emotions that some silly little thing can bring up are astounding.

    BTW…..you aren’t going away forever. At least we all hope not. It sounds as though it feels that way as you go thru this process…..

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