That was my horoscope the week before I flew back out to Ohio, for probably the last time (except as ashes in a box headed for the cemetery), to help my brother completely empty our family house and prepare it for auction.
My mom's already moved to Tucson, but is missing things, like her computer, and her car, which, as I type, are en route to Tucson, thanks to my bro.
Yep, we sold out childhood home and everything left in it that we hadn't shipped to ourselves, for a little over $100,000. Not much, but pretty good considering the market and the economy.
Memories since 1970 (We lived elsewhere in Ashland for a few years, and in NYC before that) were boxed up, shipped, sold, or thrown out.
Old family friends who still live in Ashland stopped by to bid on a few trinkets. Then Becky took me, bro, and pal Lori out to the Lyn-way, a favorite restaurant, more known for its pies than the quality of its cuisine.
I should have been melancholy, but was instead elated after a near week of boxing and hauling, tossing and sorting. The cutie-pie junior auctioneer made things entertaining. He donned a flowered hat that had hung lifeless on a wall for years. The 50-year-old yet good condition wooden lawn furniture was sold to a woman who is a family friend, and who grew up in the house before we lived there.
That's the good thing; all those objects sitting in that house, are dispersed, and given new life. The house, cleaned out and ready for a vital, young new owner, will enjoy a resurrection. Out of our hands, we're free to continue our lives elsewhere.
More later. Here's the auctioneer with my sister's hat:
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