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Just One of Those Things
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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