An old plow in pieces.
A box of rocks.
Miscellaneous boards.
My son Jamie and his girlfriend Tammy didn't bat an eye at
the curious assortment of items crammed into the rental truck I drove across
the country recently. The only remarks were from Tammy, who was counting chairs
as she discovered them in the truck. Nine, nine chairs, including my
Grandmother’s dining room chairs. The truck was loaded with things from my
Mother’s house. I would have driven a bigger one but I was worried about driving a
wider, longer truck across the country by myself. There was a reason for every
item in that truck, even the big box of rocks. From the family that shipped, or
carried, an antique cast iron (heavy) rabbit across the country three times, a
box of rocks in a truck is nothing. As a matter of fact, several of those rocks
traveled to West Virginia from North Carolina first.
Also in the truck: starts from garden plants, most I had
sent her; more than 40 packing boxes and about 20 large plastic bins; tubs of
photos, of course; a collection of old strainers and colanders; coal miner’s
lamps; and a lifetime of memories.
