The Weight of Things

Boxes of knick knacks, our old Monopoly game, a chair, a lamp, that picture that used  to hang in the bedroom
Finally, the U-Haul is nearly empty
The last piece is always the hardest,
usually because of the weight.
It’s the leather sofa where we watched a million movies under that cozy blanket with a bowl of popcorn.

I’m handed a receipt, pennies on the dollar, but at least the deed is done.
I crumple it up and smash it in my front pocket as I hop up into the cab and pull away from the auction house.
As I head down the road the AM radio crackles with songs that remind me things aren’t how they used to be.

By the time I drop off the U-Haul , I realize I’m going to be late to pick the kids up from daycare.   Luckily mom is feeling well enough to drive across town and save the day, again.   I swing through the fast food place for the third time this week since I’m short on time and groceries.   

The kids wolf down their suppers, then bath time, and early to bed.  The living room seems a lot bigger with out that couch, but at least I still have my beat up recliner.  A couple Natty Lights and I fall asleep in my chair watching the baseball game on TV.  

I wake up to the black and white fuzz of the tv screen and the list of things to do racing through my head.  Take kids to daycare, pick up cough medicine at the pharmacy, sign lease for apartment, take flowers to the cemetery.  I crawl out of my chair and rummage through my jeans pocket for my keys.  The receipt is still there too and I glance at it in the pale morning light. As I read through the list, a tear comes to my eye as I wonder what they’ll do with the memories I left behind?