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“Mother,” she cried, “You cannot crowd everything in your new space.
Ridding yourself of some of it is something you must face.”
I was opening a small red box as she began to speak.
When I saw the contents that it held my aging legs turned weak.
I’d put them away when he had died for seeing them made me sad.
They were still there all neatly tied, love letters from her dad.
I turned to her with welling eyes.  “These go with me to my grave.
Your daddy wrote them to me, they are something I must save.”

“Of course, Mamma, it’s up to you. I’m just cautioning you a bit.
We must weed out the useless things. They simply will not fit.”
I put the box on the dresser where some other treasures lay,
items I knew I must go through before I moved away.
I gazed at the familiar room and the furniture it contained.
I fancied I heard the pieces scream, “Am I discarded or retained?”
I called my daughter to me and asked her to sit down.
“ Don’t be disgusted with me Honey, I’m not moving into town.

I know you think I am not safe, alone on this old farm.
I’ve lived here now for sixty years and have never come to harm.
Your dad and I were frugal, we didn’t buy unneeded things.
The only jewelry that we owned was our two wedding rings.
I’ve never had a garage sale.  I had no excess to sell,
and we had no reason to buy new, when the old worked just as well.
I fit in here as comfortably as I do in my old shoes.
Everything in this old house I love or is of use. 

Knowing I’d made up my mind, my daughter sweetly assented.
Staying in my home with beloved things, I never have repented.
My letters in their box are on my little bedside table.
I’ll read one with my prayers each night, as long as I am able. 




Won 2nd place

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