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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