I\u2019m happiest in the unknown, though I would argue<\/p>\n
that I need to know everything. In the unknown there<\/p>\n
are delicious surprises\u2014like the faces looking back at<\/p>\n
me last night as I attempted to sleep. I heard that up<\/p>\n
to six months prior to one\u2019s death, visions may come<\/p>\n
of long lost loved ones.\u00a0 So, you can imagine what<\/p>\n
I was thinking last night when those faces floated<\/p>\n
past. Is this the end? And my next thought\u2026what about<\/p>\n
all my stuff? No one should have to clean out drawers<\/p>\n
and cupboards\u2026my eclectic collection of junk so vast.<\/p>\n
My mother-in-law spent the last ten years of her life<\/p>\n
cleaning out her stuff. She said to me each phone call,<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, Nancy, I\u2019m going through my things every day<\/p>\n
so you won’t have too after I die. .I just got rid of my baby<\/p>\n
bracelet.\u00a0 Who would want it?\u201d I said, \u201cI would.\u201d\u00a0 Too late<\/p>\n
now. It\u2019s in the window of some pawn shop or an antique<\/p>\n
store on Main Street. \u00a0We, or at least my family, valued<\/p>\n
old things: pewter, silver, crockery, jewels, and furs.<\/p>\n
I have a crystal bowl from my aunt, a cheese crock<\/p>\n
from the auction, a tiny wishbone pendant from my<\/p>\n
great-grandmother, a pocket watch from my biological<\/p>\n
father. These things are precious\u2026then there’s the paper<\/p>\n
shredder from the neighbor\u2019s move, a mint green bandana,<\/p>\n
and a sweater and tennis shoes stuffed in a sack in the<\/p>\n
trunk of my care for when I\u00a0head to the Goodwill\u2026or what<\/p>\n
my daughter used to call\u2014Good William. \u00a0Not precious<\/p>\n
and not my point here. My point\u2014I want to be\u00a0comfortable<\/p>\n
with the unknown. One never knows when I’ll meet those<\/p>\n
faces..<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I\u2019m happiest in the unknown, though I would argue that I need to know everything. In the unknown there are delicious surprises\u2014like the faces looking back at me last night as I attempted to sleep. I heard that up to six months prior to one\u2019s…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1134,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-88589","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-half-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88589","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1134"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=88589"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88589\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":91063,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/88589\/revisions\/91063"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=88589"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=88589"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=88589"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}