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A couple months ago, Sister and I stopped at a moving sale and peeked through the belongings of an elderly man who was moving from his long-owned house. There’s something melancholy about seeing a collection of Christmas decorations that took about fifty years to accumulate and now they are up for $10 each.

Something melancholy about seeing a collection of well-used garden tools that the owner can’t use anymore, leaning against the side of the garage, waiting for someone younger to make an offer.

Something melancholy about the vibrant rhododendron, obviously cultivated and loved for many, many years, and he can’t take that with him when he goes. He leaves behind that piece of himself.

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But there’s also something so nice about running into someone who knew your grandmother. In all the moving I’ve done and all the places I’ve lived, there is only one place where that is possible and it is so good for my heart to have those moments where I am reminded of my roots, of where I came from. I don’t know what the future will bring or where I’ll end up, but I am happiestĀ here right now, surrounded by my people and my places and knowing that generations came before me and that gives me a sense of belonging I haven’t experienced anywhere else.

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And that’s enough of being sappy…I will also say we picked up two nice vases for $2.

 

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