If you’re feeling blue you may want to skip this post.
I’ve been moving, a real chore. Since I love this new location, I made up my mind not to grumble–much. One good thing about packing, we tend to get rid of things. In my case I go through three stages.
- Stage one, I pack and donate the stuff I haven’t used in so long I forgot I had it.
- Stage two, I donate items that wouldn’t fit in the new place.
- Stage three, I’m so sick of packing I discard, donate, or offer to the movers as long I won’t have to look at it again.
When I entered stage one I stopped by the Goodwill donation center. An SUV idled ahead of me on that pleasant morning, me relaxed having already had my coffee. The young worker approached with the empty rolling bin to help the middle age woman standing by the back door of the vehicle. My car positioned behind hers gave me a perfect view of what she handed to the Goodwill man. A walker, with tennis balls on the metal legs. Crutches. Boxes full of robes or soft blankets, couldn’t tell. An old toaster. Old table lamp, you know, with little ruffles around the lampshade…more clothes, boxes with dishes, and nick knacks…It didn’t take much imagination for me to assume she was disposing of someone’s belongings. The bin was now full. I got out of my car, the woman pushed back some items resting on the floor of the SUV. The Goodwill man approached, our eyes met, “All that remains of a life?” I asked.
“Pretty much so,” He shook his head. We both watched the SUV drive off. The custom license plate said Granmcar.