ESTATE SALE

I noticed a sign for an Estate Sale a couple of blocks away, and partly because I'd always wanted to see the inside of the house, I dropped in.  It reminded me of a typical "grandparents" home - meaning nothing like my mom's spiffy, sweet-smelling, tidy and contemporary home at all - but like the homes of my grandparents, perhaps, or their relatives and friends.  Actually, apart from the musty smell, a lot like the homey, quaint "20's feel" I aim for (and fail to obtain) in my own home.   [OK - I just revealed one of my chief weirdnesses; I hope you'll still like me.]

In any case, I wandered through; things I liked were generally priced too high, and with our vacation coming up I needed to reserve all spare funds for that, so I passed up some nice embroidered runners (linens are a weakness), and antique cups and saucers (no more room in my china cabinet, anyway). 

Down in the basement I found this collage of what appears to be senior portraits from around the turn of the last century, and it made me so sad.  All of those bright young people, now all undoubtedly passed away, lives gone, forgotten.  Forgotten.  That's what made me sad.  They had been filled with such anticipation when those photos were taken; someone loved them, cherished them.  Now it was over; they were dead and no one wanted their pictures any more.  "Past hope, past help, past care."  (Which I think is a quote from some Shakespeare, though I couldn't say what.) I was feeling sad and nearly queasy pondering it all, though I had to realize that undoubtedly even the owners of this home - even if they were in their 90's, wouldn't have known these people; they were another generation back, at least.  Then I considered - if these were portraits of my own high school friends, this collection would seem easy to part with.  If my HS portrait were in the group, I'd be all the happier to have it disappeared.  I was clearly getting far too melancholy and romantic about everything! 

Still.....in the kitchen I paused over some china.  I heard someone ask the sale coordinator if the couple had both passed away, "No!  They decided to go live near their kids up north."  Relief.  My eye caught that of another woman browsing over items in the kitchen, and she articulated what I'd been feeling, "That makes me feel better, somehow."  Yes, indeed; I'd been feeling quite a lot like one of the ragpickers out of A Christmas Carol!