I am home for a funeral. Another precious friend is gone. Another lonely widow is left.
Being here is important, but I am not really here.
My mind is at Mama’s house. It is slowly being dismantled.
Things are being moved and polished and researched and assessed.
We are finding little treasures and surprises. These are being set aside on the desk.
We want to be sure that our heirlooms do not get mixed in with things with no history.
I am washing Daddy’s clothes. I missed a pocket containing jelly beans and tissues and screws.
Our lives are being played backwards as we struggle to move forward.
I ask Mama about things we find, but she cannot remember much.
She was the family’s memory. Not any more.
I am here watering my neglected plants and doing laundry. No plants have died… yet.
It seems that there has been a strange shift in my values. I must be careful.
No stone will be left unturned. All drawers will be emptied. All shelves cleared. Closets opened.
I must be careful about what I choose to carry from my past into my future.
I will choose this load with caution, as I carry what is there to here.
Will home be here? Will I? Hard choices must be made. It is time to decide what should be kept.
FLOW




























