Rocks*Magnets*Sunflowers                                             Hour Five    10 word list prompt

 

He came home for the funeral; things looked much as when he had been there at Christmas.

Working overseas for a homeland security company had kept him away a lot after 911.

 

Hymns, sandwiches, hugs, and tears had made the church service seem surreal.

Family, friends and friends like family gathered and rallied. She was well loved by all.

 

They talked every Sunday; facetiming hadn’t appealed to her although they had tried it once or twice.

He couldn’t believe his dear grandmother had passed away so suddenly.

 

He sat down and thought about growing up in this house; her love and care surrounded him.

Looking for keepsakes wasn’t why he came; he had simply come to say goodbye. And thank you.

 

A ten year-old best seller, a large print hardback, lie open on the threadbare lounger.

The knitting basket had tipped over and colorful balls of yarn had spilled out onto the floor.

 

Just out the kitchen window a garden bed of sunflowers bobbed, twisted and strained following the sun.

The grand old oak stood as still as a sentry at the corner of the yard nestled by crumbling pavement.

 

The nail holding down a corner of the carpet was rough and bent; collecting extra dirt in the space.

An empty wineglass sat unattended on the back patio table; a cloth napkin had blown under the chair.

 

A recipe for Gma’s famous au gratin potatoes hung front and center on the frig; held snug by a huge “Got Beef?” magnet.

She had made that casserole for every church potluck; Tillamook cheddar cheese was her secret ingredient.

 

A stack of all the postcards and letters he had written her were buried in the bottom on her worn leather satchel.

He knew he’d find them there; along with a few smooth rocks from the Oregon coast and a tiny stuffed owl.

 

He walked around one more time; he bent down to grab her “helpers” and sat them next to the book.

There was no need to clean up or pick up. Memories cannot be boxed up.