Memories

Summer is short this year. The task of emptying out the home place in Rising Star has become the all consuming job this summer. Last summer Jim and I went through this same process with his parent's place...and now it is my turn. It feels different though....with his parent's home we saw it come to life again as Amy and Greg moved in and created a new, fresh home. It felt good.

My parent's situation was a little different. Dad died a couple of years ago....leaving Mom alone. She fell after Christmas and now through life circumstances finds herself in a retirement center. She is too young to be there... none of us could foresee that this would be her future. She is having to sell everything...and downsize. It feels like another death in the family. Rising Star is where we always had family....lots of it. Young ones moved away....old ones died and now there are only markers outside of town that note the family existence.

SO...because everyone was busy building their own nests and futures most of the task fell to me to sort through the "stuff". Guy, my sweet brother, is taking care of Mom all the time...so it was the very least I could do for him as his responsibilities for Mom are ongoing and daily. It was a good thing... gave me some closure. I was able to touch each "thing" and think about its significance....or not. There were lots of memories in the mess!

What I learned....the value of the stuff is of no value. It is the life that touched it and the memories that were captured that made a thing of some value to someone. An aluminum boat shaped tin plate became the prized "thing". Everyone asked about it. It is probably not worth a dollar....but everyone wanted it. Why? It was on the table at every single meal of my lifetime. Dad put bacon or sausage in it in the mornings.....on top of a folded piece of paper towel. The paper towel was key....soaked up excess grease! It was used again at lunch for whatever....and then supper usually found it holding fried something....okra, squash, a few potatoes with onion. That old tin was a family member! Always faithful and always dependable. I learned this week that it was a wedding present to my Mom and Dad. It will set on my table tonight...with a folded paper towel on it to just remind me.

When sorting it became clear that the newest, most stylish, currently purchased items would go into the estate sale. It was the bowl with the crack, the deep cast iron skillet and silly things that would be treasured. It made me think of my own things...and look at them with new eyes. I was reminded of what really made a house a home. There is a friend of mine that has a wall in her home that if filled with family photos. Her home is beautiful with the latest colors and styles....but my favorite wall is the one that tells the story of their lives. The years of love and accomplishments and memories. I hope she never changes it. It is the wall that says "home" to me.

As we watched years of "things" go out the door....slowly our home just became an empty house. It was satisfying knowing that some of the buyers were excited and would love and treasure some of Mom's trinkets or knic knacks. Many of the residents of the tiny town stopped by to say hello and spin a yarn or two about my mom or my dad. One fellow came by late after everything was picked over and just wanted some little something to remind him of my mom. He was round, uneducated and awkward....his smell arrived before he did. He smiled a big toothless grin and simply said, "Your momma shore was good to me. If the house don't sell before the pecans come due, I'll be happy to pick 'em up for your momma. I'll shell 'em for her and everything.....'cause your momma shore does like pecans and she was always good to me." It made me so proud of my momma...it became clear throughout the day that my momma was good to a great number of folks....and they would not soon forget her or my daddy. Could there be any greater legacy than that for a daughter...a son...or grandchildren?

As the layers of the sandwich peel away....I must remember to build my own legacy for the time when certainly my children will sort through my "stuff".