nostalgia

my mom's been gone a lot lately in raleigh, packing up my grandparents and moving them out of their house and into a smaller, much more manageable apartment for a couple in their eighties. my grandparents have lived in that same house for fifty years, a house they designed and built, a house that holds innumerable memories for them, their children, their grandchildren-- a house that now has a "sold" sign in front of it.

i've imagined my gramma as she packs up all her things and watches them disappear: she must feel that ache. she's leaving the place she welcomed her babies, one by one.  it's funny to think of those fortunate strangers who've bought this house. they'll have no idea, as they move all their stuff in and set up the house as they would have it, of all the joy, sadness, and life that's happened there.

of course my grandparents can't take most of their furniture with them, so it's being divided up among the children and grandchildren. they also can't take most of their stuff. while cleaning out closets, mom found an envelope labeled "letters from rebekah"--stuffed with letters i'd written to my grandmother dating back to when i was in second grade. and oh my goodness. the high-faluting mumbo jumbo! they're almost unbearable to read. but i've had a good laugh. here's hoping i've swapped those dramatic, adjective-full, itallicized sentences for words a bit more meaningful (but just as earnest. because if i was anything at all as a child, i was earnest. also, i thought i was anne shirley).

back to packing.

^ little calvin, helping to unload the car of some things my mom brought home from her parents'. that red hat is one my mom used to wear to church as a little girl, back when the catholic church required all women to have their heads covered during service.