Twenty-five years of accumulated household stuff has a way of overwhelming a modest home.
Tons of read – and unread – books, Scrabble games with missing tiles (but somehow with a full complement of Qs, Xs, and Zs), Monopoly games with a shortage of cash rivaling an Athens ATM, and toys long-since abandoned for lipstick, prom dresses, running shoes, and jewelry.
So this past week, a huge dumpster for hire was placed strategically in our driveway.
Day after day, each of us took turns purging, releasing, moving on.
Just a few memories salvaged