Changes

My mom is moving to Atlanta. It started out as a thought, and then a plan, and then house shopping, and then finding a house, and then the inspection, and all those other bits of paperwork. It seemed mostly real to me.

And then I found the for sale listing for my mom’s house.

Oh.

I’m not going to cook Thanksgiving dinner in that house again. I’m not going to sit on the deck and look at my mom’s crazy, colorful garden.

Oh.

I felt sad for a little bit. But I think it’s like the stuff I considered treasures. Like my model horses. I have plenty of memories about them, and I don’t really need to have the actual things anymore.

I have plenty of memories of fixing the gravy and creamed corn. My mom being sure the turkey was bad the night before Thanksgiving. And getting people out the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day. Go! Eat stuff and get out of the way!

Advertisement