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Poem

Just One Of Those Things
David J Walker

The boxes of wide mouth Mason Jars 
Still stood stacked in the back of the
Garage in neat racks of nothingness 
Covered in dust, a slight hint 
of rust in its rings and a dry emptiness 

It’s just one of those things 
I told myself thinking about
My mother earning her wings 
As a child in the kitchen of a 

Dustbowl depression farmhouse 
holding fast to the last of an agrarian lifestyle 
blowing away with tumbleweeds and topsoil 
A dream in a recoil of better expectations

It’s just one of those things
I told myself thinking about the letter
Written to her son the soldier better 
Then 50 years later still in my desk drawer 

Telling me about home 
Asking me about the war 
“No rain again here today, dear son
I pray for you every day 

It’s just one of those things
I told myself thinking about the book
Signed by everyone attending her funeral 
Stacked neatly in a closet with the 
Silver framed picture of her at 21 

To whom should I bequeath these things
Jars full of emptiness
Letters postmarked 1972
books of names losing their meaning with 
Each year passing 

Will they wallpaper some trendy 
	Restaurant in some other city 
And state of being

It’s just one of those things

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