Memories and Bubble Wrap

Hello there, Harriet here, I hope you all had a nice weekend. Me? Not so much. I mean it was nice to walk around the house without that dang, blame cast but I found myself falling into pits of melancholy off and. I suppose it’s the big move coming up, the big sale. I’ve been getting the house ready to show. That nice Christine from the Real Estate office is coming by later to look around. She wants to have an Open House. Yikes. Even saying the words strikes terror into my heart. Even Humphrey has sensed that something is not right. He’s been moping around--not that it’s easy to tell when a Bassett Hound is sad. They look like that all the time. But I know. I know Humphrey is sad and knows something is up. I haven’t told him the truth yet.
Anyhoo, I’ve started boxing my collection. My plan is to send them all ahead of me. I might send some other stuff also, books and mementos, my FOREVER boxes--you know, those boxes filled with pictures your kids drew when they were six, the hand made Mother’s Day cards and odd little lumps of clay that Henry says is an angel and six fish. Yeah, all that stuff. Of course I’ll pack up my jewelry and most of my clothes and . . . oh dear the tears are starting again. I have to keep telling myself, “Now Harriet, you’ve lived a good life. You have many blessings. This is just another stage. Another season.” But still, I can’t help but feel wistful about it all. I wish it was over. I was never a very good packer and I just cannot believe the astonishing amount of stuff I’ve collected over the years.
Martha will help. As a matter of fact she’s coming over in just a little while. We’re going to have pie and coffee and then work on the collection. Seems Martha and me can’t do anything without pie and coffee.
I’ve also come across some old photos from back in the days when we had actual pictures to hold, not a bunch of images locked inside a computer. I found a picture of Henry when he got his first car, graduated from high school, the prom (which he attended with that nasty Jocelyn Radzinski’s daughter, Amy).  A picture of Max up on the roof nailing shingles down, stupid stuff some of it, but priceless. Funny how memories are more valuable than anything else after all these years. Well, I can’t get all caught up in the past now. I have a future to build with my son and Prudence and hopefully a grandchild. I’m not getting any younger and I do wish they would have a baby before I am too old to care or notice. I don't want to be the next member of the family to need diapers first, for corn's sake.
Oh, I hear the door bell. It must be Martha. She said she found some nice, sturdy boxes and I bought about a mile of bubble wrap. I didn’t even know regular people could purchase it. But there it is in a roll. Humphrey stepped on it this morning and popped a few bubbles. POP! POP! POP! HA! You should have seen him. He jumped about ten feet in the air and his long floppy ears shot straight up like two flags. He hasn’t gone near it since.
Well you all have a good day and if you want maybe you could share a fond memory or two. Funny how packing has a way of UN-packing our minds.