The house is emptying bit by bit and now my footsteps seem to echo. My parents' house is being prepared to be sold since both Mom and Dad are no longer able to live there.
One of the most heartwrenching tasks is trying to place a value on Family belongings. How do you put a price on memories and the everyday occurences that make up what we call home? You can't. So I drift from room to room, trying to analyze pieces through a stranger's eyes.
This table, where the kids ate during family celebrations, well, it's made of pine and much scarred. It is probably worth little at a garage sale, but to me its worth is infinitely higher. Another person sees only the worn Finish and scratches, but I see my neices and nephews laughing and giggling and spilling juice.
That Chair, with its torn brocade upholstery, is where the littlest one would seat at holiday meals, since all the other chairs were taken by bigger folks who would spill over its tiny seat.
In the end, I pretend that no one I ever loved had ever touched the piece, and then I am able to finish my task. The House will soon be empty but the memories will always be there...
