The stories they hold: A tribute to our possessions

As we age, oftentimes we have to relocate for a variety of reasons. Sometimes it’s to be closer to our families. Or it could be a health issue that prevents us from staying where we are. Maybe we just want a change of scenery. 

But what we don’t take into consideration is how our possessions feel about moving. Enjoy this tribute to them.

Well, I’m still sitting in this house that my owner sold last week. I’m just a grandfather clock, but I have feelings too. They didn’t ask me how I felt about moving. They just sold the house and that was that.

I can still tell the time. I still have a good chime. Why can’t I stay here?

I like living here in Ohio. I love this beautiful home and looking out at the snow in winter. The pine trees often wave to me from the front yard, and the deer do their snow ballet when Christmas comes.

Many other items have already disappeared. I saw them take the dining room set last week, the eight chairs resisting at first, until they were lifted and carried out the door. I chimed goodbye to them, but I’m not sure they heard me. Alas, they are gone.

Then the king bed said farewell, whispering stories to me about the children waking their parents early, telling them that it was time for pancakes.

The bed was used to comfort the kids during thunderstorms or when they claimed that ghosts were in the room. Dogs laced the blankets with their unruly fur. Such a great bed that was.

I am one of the last to go, along with that hefty pool table and grand piano. I remember smoky evenings when the parents had parties and the men would play eight ball until the wee hours of the morning. 

Sometimes Uncle George would entertain everyone with his renditions of the standards. Afterwards, the Steinway would smile at me, knowing it had been put to good use.

All three of us are too old and too heavy to go anywhere now. Maybe we’ll just get to stay here and not have to endure moving once again.

As for the other items that have departed? Maybe I’ll get a postcard from time to time, letting me know how things are going in their new homes. Perhaps they will enjoy looking out different windows. Maybe another dog and some younger kids will put them to use once again.

I will miss them. We’ve shared so many memories. But like everything else in life, change is always certain. I guess I’ll have to accept that.