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Posthumously
after Mom’s death,
we five siblings went through
box after box of greeting cards,
letters,
diaries,
journals, brittle
clippings of her mother’s
that had been bequeathed to Mom as
eldest.
journals, brittle
clippings of her mother’s
that had been bequeathed to Mom as
eldest.
Weekends
are for yard sales,
so we planned one when five
of us seven children could be
present.
are for yard sales,
so we planned one when five
of us seven children could be
present.
Pie pans,
cookbooks, blankets,
mismatched silverware, odd
purses, sweaters, glassware, aprons
and more,
cookbooks, blankets,
mismatched silverware, odd
purses, sweaters, glassware, aprons
and more,
found new
homes in exchange
for one dollar, or two.
Neighbors dropped by for a look-see,
chatted,
picked uphomes in exchange
for one dollar, or two.
Neighbors dropped by for a look-see,
chatted,
tiny trinkets
so they would have something
of “dear Ms. Anna Pearl’s” that they
could keep.
Packing
unsold clothing,
a daughter found something
in her mom’s black velvet jacket:
dried bread,
too large
at the time for
her to swallow during
Holy Communion many months
ago.
[PL - written in July of 2006]
Such a sad poem but something every reader can identify with for sure. I have been trying to weed my own life out lately thinking of my kids and what they will not want to do.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading/commenting. I think this Christmas, I'll give gifts of Mom's vintage linens and glassware and jewelry. How does that sound? xoxo
DeleteI think this sounds like a lovely and meaningful gift idea! I'm taking my dad's cuff links to two neices on Thanksgiving. They want them and I think now is the time. I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.
ReplyDelete