We went back to visit my parents on this same weekend last year. I think it will be an annual autumnal tradition. The corn is turning a golden, dry yellow. The wind crackles. The sun tires much earlier in the evening. It is good to go to the country at this time of year.
I visited my grandmother and also grandfather and grandmother. They've both got apartments in the nearby city now, having moved from their overwhelming homes. It was good to see them, good to reconnect.
I walked through the home my grandparents moved from. Just down the driveway from the home I grew up in. They've moved on now and all that is left are some boxes filled with odds and ends, their odds and ends.
I will take care of my grandmother's sewing machine. The one she used to make quilts for my children. The one that she used for her wonderful talents. I hope maybe I'll give it a spin soon, maybe sew a dolly dress or the edges of a scrapbook page.
Our grandparents had these things, that mean something. These possessions, that they held on to for so long. My children, they may not find that I've done that. I donate anything not being used. I hold on to nothing.
Now there will be a few keepsakes from great-grandparents. Those, I will hold on to.
It makes a person sentimental, all of this going back.
Tomorrow starts a new day, a new week. I need to shift back to the city me. The one who teaches and runs around and tries to do it all. The one who wasted a lot of money this month paying bills a little late, a symptom of procrastination and a tired mind. The one who needs to tend to her home and get on track.
I'm not sure I've got it all figured out just yet.