Memories

We’re dismantling the house my parents built in 1962.
We’re plucking it of stuff.
We’re stripping memories.
For me, it’s small stuff. Mom’s electric typewriter, her rocking chair. Bakeware, her recipe box. Old pictures of my dad, books he and I shared, a wallet caddy, a medallion. Two pieces of their wedding crystal, part of their Department 56 Christmas village.
We’ve laughed, cried.
It’s been good.
It’s been bittersweet.
Another step.

1 comments:

Dee Martin said...

hugs