So many times have been in Grandma Mary’s house
Never delved into exactly what was in there
Do know the walls were covered
Children, relatives, travel, awards
Memories which papered their walls
Furniture, sturdy stock tinged with wear
Always felt functional beauty would be an apt description
Sitting on a fall away lot
Views of the seasons colored one’s days
But Grandma Mary and Poppee
No longer gaze out the picture window
They still see us much as I feel we see them
Now we try to sort and share their last possessions
So practical now how one analyzes belongings
That were once hardly noticed
Some items, now they are called items, too personal
To share outside the family
Huddled conversations to determine
Another home to preserve the memory
Like pebbles on a pond
Possessions are scattered
Now some to those willing to purchase
Soon enough the house now eerily but peacefully quiet
Empty except for echoes
Their third child and second daughter
Has stepped into the breech to lead her sweet sisters
In the healing
She now the Maitre d lost in thought wanders the empty rooms
Her job done, a job she did not seek
Finally the door must close
To a family’s life of 70 years
Who knew that Poppee and Grandma Mary
Were hiding the Queen of their own Estate Sale
FXC 2/9/2020
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