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Thought Provoking Ramble

Spent most of my weekend in contemplation, but also spent some time chilling with the hubby.   We sat in the back yard with ice-cold glasses of tea sweating in our hands.  Last night, we switched out the tea for this new light beer with lime.  Added wedges of fresh lime and yum

The fan above us circled lazily and we listened to a mix of David Gray, Over the Rhine, Billy Joel and a few others.  We have speakers that go throughout the house–even outside.  My sister and her husband came over and we grilled marinated sirloin and vegetable kabobs, fresh corn on the cob and I mixed up some coleslaw with extra celery seed.   The sis and I later made spritz cookies with peach jam while I introduced her to Torchwood on my laptop in the kitchen.   She agreed.  Kind of cheesy, a bit of over acting–but strangely fun, at times.  <g>

Baking isn’t normal for us, but the hubby had found an old fashioned cookie press yesterday, so we thought we’d try it out.  Made a huge mess I’ve yet to clean up. <g>

I was glad my sister came over because I’d been kind of sad earlier in the day.  The hubby had found the press at one of the estate sales we attended.  We both love antiques and in this area, it’s hard to find them when the companies who handle the estate sales seem to let their employees have first dibs.  You walk into a sale that just opened and already “sold” signs are stuck on the good pieces of furniture.   Every now and then, you get lucky though.  One of my favorite paintings was found at an estate sale.

But I prefer living estate sales and one over the weekend was obviously not–the hospice bed was still in the house.  My chest started aching when I saw it, so I waited outside for my husband. 

I tell myself they are just things.  That we all have things and they’ll all be dispersed upon our deaths.  But walking through a recently deceased person’s house and watching people touch the things that made up that person’s time here…  well, it tends to get to me.  I attended one a few years ago that still had the personal photos everywhere.  Sat on the curb outside at that one, too.

So, I ended up spending more time people watching and one thing I did notice was that a lot of the people going through the items were in their later years.   I saw the same people at several different sales yesterday and one in particular caught my eye.  She wasn’t walking through to purchase.  No, she was wandering through rooms, touching beds, running her hands over personal mementos.  This lady was pushing well past eighty.   The first time I saw her, I thought maybe she’d known the person.  But no, she was at one of the others. 

Touching someone else’s life with this sort of awed reverence.   

I couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.   Luckily, I got distracted by uh, books. (You can’t be surprised.)   In those books, I found a signed copy of a romance novel–signed by a woman I know well.  The book is from the eighties and in excellent condition so I bought it.  My author friend had signed the book directly to the woman with a personal message.

I held the book in my lap on the drive home.  I so look forward to holding a book in my hands with my name on the cover.  Proof of something that I worked hard to achieve–the completion of a dream.  That book will mean a lot to me and to the people who love me. 

But…it could possibly mean something to a stranger as well.  It could end up in a houseful of personal things that made up that person’s life.   Hard to wrap your mind around thoughts like these at times, eh? 


  1. July 1, 2008    

    That could be a touching story, the woman and the old things, or a spooky one, depending on the direction you took it.

    I’m with you on the holding the book in your hands, can’t wait for that. C

  2. July 2, 2008    

    I wonder if that’s part of what is holding me back from submitting my novel to anyone…of handing a piece of me over to strangers and maybe having them reject it…and therefore me. I dunno.

  3. July 2, 2008    

    That does sound like a great story. And heartbreaking, too, as seen from your point of view. I don’t know if I would be able to walk thru a person’s home that just lived there–personal stuff still lying around. That would make me uncomfortable, I think. Like you would expect someone to run in and yell “These are MY things! You can’t have them.”

    I’ve never been to an estate sale. Don’t do yard sales much, either. The last thing we need in this house is more junk. But, again, I think I should experience one in my lifetime. Y’know, for research.

    I need feedback for version 2 of the business layout. C’mon over and let me know what you think.

  4. July 2, 2008    

    Ciera, that holds quite a few of us back in the beginning. But don’t ever think they’re rejecting you–to them, it’s just a story on paper and it isn’t personal at all. 🙂

    Celise, estate sales are great for collectors and they are interesting if you like looking at old homes, buying antiques, etc. My husband just loves them. I tend to have a difficult time unless they are living ones. But one of those was hard as well. I knew the family needed the money but they were having a hard time selling their things.

    I’m too much a softie at times. I don’t do yard sales. Used to for books when I was a teenager, but I only stopped at one in the last four years and that’s because I saw some old furniture. I’m a sucker for big, old wall pieces.

    Oh, I left feedback from my daughter and myself for ya.

    Carol, it was kind of heartbreaking to watch the lady, but now that you pointed it out, I could have turned that story dark. heh heh

  5. July 2, 2008    

    Touching post, Rinda. Glad you found the book. Are you going to tell the author?

    And I’m home today. Not sure when you will be, but hope you are doing well. Take it easy. (Hard to do for a control freak like me, but I’m trying.)

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