that cardboard boxes, paper bags and even trash bags dry rot and fall apart when you touch them. I learned this up in Grandmother’s attic as I was going through her things. There’s just something so sad about a trash bag, lovingly and carefully wrapped around an item to preserve it, that disintegrates at a touch.
that the things in our lives take their meaning from the hands that use them and that the tools a person leaves behind tell a tale of their own. There’s not a whole lot I want from her house, just a few things really to remind me of her, to continue the connection we’ve had all my life.
that the sight of a funeral wreath can make your heart skip a beat. And possibly make you stop in the middle of the street and burst into tears. Regardless of the traffic.
True. That goes to show that nothing physical is permanent and even memories will leave us in due time.
I hope my stopping didn’t frighten you. I was shocked at the almost sudden death of my friend.
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