by cheri block
In the sweltering garage, two piles of stuff wait for guidance.
In the air-conditioned tired patio home, a little old woman waits for the same.
A grandson and son walk back and forth, carrying boxes, trinkets, vases, art work, and expired cans of food.
The piles expand.
The tears, like intermittent rain, come down at curious intervals.
The real estate agent arrives with paperwork.
I call Tony’s Moving Company and talk to Bruce.
The walker doesn’t know which way to go in this dreadful fusion of past and present.
One pile finds relief at the local dump.
The other survives death, on its way to the local Good Will station wherein, perhaps, parts of its body will make their way into another’s life, like a transplant.
I remember Dad and trust that wherever his energy is, he would approve.
Mother bravely says, “Change is good.”
I am inspired, once again.