Like his succah decorations. Saved from year to year, never changed, never ripped. Always perfect, kept for posterity. Because Sabba believed in pachim ketanim. Every item held value. It was the same way he viewed people. Secretaries and clerks were treated the same as doctors and lawyers. “Hello, how are you, thank you, be well.”

Sabba found value in each item, no matter how seemingly insignificant. I, on the other hand, am constantly decluttering. It’s the trend, these days, right? Minimalism lifestyle and all that. I mean, is there really any better feeling than having dropped six bags off at the local gemach and realizing you won’t miss a single one of the items you’re giving away?

It’s liberating. Almost therapeutic.

Lately, though, I’ve been on the fence, trying to find that fine line between sentimental and just, well, mental.

Keeping sheva brachos clothing in my storage room is cute, but holding on to frayed sets of linen from the beginning of my marriage is considered a waste of space even though just looking at them brings me right back to my kallah days. Owning a set of blocks that once belonged to my nephew who can now bench 200 and learns three sedorim a day is adorable, but holding on to shekel store prizes my children earned for good schoolwork is “clutter” and “ridiculous.”

It’s exhausting, honestly, trying to minimalize my life while maximizing its potential.

Once, years ago, we were visiting Sabba in Monsey, my husband and I, our bouncing baby boy in tow. Sabba met us at the door.

“What a handsome fella,” he said, smile peeking through his beard. “Look what I have for him!”

He pulled out a grayish rubber ducky with a faded orange belly.

“I found it in the basement. I boiled it in a pot of water to clean it, dried it, and here it is.”

Sabba was so proud of his find. I thought fleetingly of the four bright yellow duckies waiting for my son in his bathtub back home.

And then I took the duck.

I still have it, though the shinier, yellower ones have come and gone, and my bouncing baby boy is now ten. The thought of Sabba taking the time to fill up a big pot of water to sterilize the old toy that he’d kept, because he knew one day it would be of use again, is a warm embrace on a cold day.

There have been many cold days this past year.

And lately, I’ve found myself fingering the pachim ketanim that make up my small house.  The scribbled drawings from gan; the popsicle stick tent of Avraham Avinu that leans to the side but was given over with the excitement of learning about parshah for the very first time; the first walkers that will hopefully never be back in style but bring to mind little pillow feet taking their big steps into an unknown world; the cover of my son’s first-ever bassinet, which no longer exists….

Maybe not everything extraneous is clutter. Maybe some of it is just the physical embodiment of a loving home. Like Sabba’s rubber duckie.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 922)