Jaci Dawn

I put to rest the smallest part of my inheritance. The contents meant for the china hutch have been sorted and stored or designated for Goodwill. The vintage clothing has been carefully folded and placed into the Melrose truck. Easter and Christmas decorations have been boxed and stowed.

I have yet to deal with all of the Lions’ Club pins, but that can be done in the cool winter months.

The books… I have no idea. I added to our books by a third. I will read all of them and some I will keep. I believe I will read those which I am most likely to donate first. The vintage books… I can’t bring myself to part with vintage books. My father’s books on the exploration and discovery of the Great Basin or USFS Ranger history – my husband already has his nose in one.

There are a few loose ends of the items brought home which I will deal with as it comes up.

I am saddened because three items I had hoped to bring home to my youngest daughter are not in my possession. There was a figurine of a Marilyn Monroe-esque figurine and two dried sea horses that seem to have disappeared. I do not know where the figurine came from or who may have it now. It should have been Chrystal’s. She asked for it, and I granted her wish.

But I do not know where it could be now, five years after the event.

The two dried sea horses belonged only to me. Okay – one was my sister’s and one was mine: gifts from a friend long ago. I gave them both to Chrystal. They were no one else’s to claim or give: they were mine, and mine, alone. But they are gone. Chrystal’s small inheritance, gone.

I don’t have any ideas where they might be. They should have been in the boxes that came home to me, along with the fuzzy gold blanket I used to wrap some item. I am missing that blanket as well.

I gained a red sleeping bag that I don’t need or want.

Nothing matters. Stuff burns as chaff at our passing. The next generation remembers little. So why do we cling to possessions?

I have no answers except his: possessions remind us.