Squatters

All this time we thought my Mom's house had sat empty.

Yesterday we cleaned. We bagged books. We bagged magazines. We bagged nick knacks. We bagged candles, plastic snow shaker orbs, broken china, plastic plates. We filled almost the entire living room to about three feet high with garbage bags. Sitting there to wait for a huge dumpster to claim it all.

We dismantled a mantel.

The baby raccoons are sleeping in between the walls of a bedroom and the upstairs bathroom. I stuck my hand inside the wall to take the photo. I blew on them to make them raise their head. My brother cautioned me about the possibility of the mama raccoon coming and taking my hand off. We never saw any sign of her. The neighbors say that they only see the babies climbing in and out of the house.

We weeded around my Mom's grave. I broiled in the sun during this part of the day. We walked the property behind the house. We spoke of selling the land off to the neighbors but keeping the plot where the house sits. The house is beyond repair but it belongs to my oldest sister for her to do with as she wishes. (My dad didn't work so the family responsibilities fell mostly on my oldest brother and sister). My sister purchased this house in 1966 after years of moving from one run down dump to another.

It was an exhausting day. There was no sorrow. There was some nostalgia. There were lots of jokes. We have moved on. Except for what to do with the house.