Memories.

Like the corners of my mind…

This weekend the family did what we have done for the past six weekends.

Yes, got down and dirty, dusty and intimate with the attic cobwebs.

We lovingly looted the ancestral home which after 70 years needed to be stripped down to the studs.

Well, Saturday was the climax.

After putting in 25 hours of hard labor in the attic, the sorting finally has closure.

the past has been tagged for sell or keep.

Funny, as I was leaving I realized that the family portraits were still hanging on the walls, in the same spots they have been for decades.

I was so accustomed to seeing the familiar faces displayed that I considered them part of the fabric of our home.

I attempted to remove them, but I had to call in back up.

My father had hung my childhood portrait with a nail that would have supported a Doric column on the Parthenon.

He was the least handy person unlike my husband who is my own personal Tim “The Toolman” Taylor home-improvement guy.

Chosen emotional remnants of my past have been properly stowed.

Artifacts will now go on display.

End game is to sell every cooper pot, piece of furniture, didgeridoo, cashmere sweater, TV and chandelier.

This is one sale I will avoid.

In two weeks time the kitchen will be completely renovated.

Such a shame that my mother can never appreciate her beautifully renovated home.

Word to the wise, never put off until tomorrow.

After the estate sale all that is left to do is scrub the house clean, converting the past into a home for another family to make new memories.