But first, breakfast. Some things were more important than goodbyes.
CHAPTER 23
Phase two began in earnest the next day.
Grandma Sarah stood in the middle of the living room, a clipboard in one hand and a roll of colored stickers in the other. As soon as breakfast was over, she gathered everyone together to explain her plan.
“Okay, we've all had fun going through things yesterday. You've had your chance to cry, laugh, and feel nostalgic, but that gets nothing done. We've got to move this stuff out of here, and we can't do that by lamenting over every item you remember from the past.”
No one dared interrupt as she explained the rules. Red stickers meant keep. Blue stickers meant donate. Yellow stickers meant discussion required. Green stickers meant trash. It was a simple system, elegant in its efficiency, and Grandma Sarah explained it with the authority of someone who had spent eighty years learning how to get things done.
Christopher had set up his laptop on the dining room table, angled so Beth could see and select items for her house. The screen showed Beth propped up in bed at the farmhouse, pillows surrounding her, one twin asleep on her chest. Emily sat besideher in a chair, leaning forward with her characteristic intensity, determined not to miss anything.
“Can you see okay?” Christopher asked, adjusting the angle.
“Move it a little to the left,” Beth said. “I want to see the living room.”
“If I move it any more to the left, you'll be looking at the wall.”
“Then move it up.”
“Then you'll be looking at the ceiling.”
“Chris.”
“Beth.”
Emily's voice cut through their sibling squabble. “If you set it on top of some books, the angle would be better.”
Christopher grabbed a stack of old hardcovers from the nearby shelf and propped the laptop on top. “Better?”
“Much better,” Emily confirmed. “Now we can see almost everything.”
Maggie smiled at the efficiency of it all. “Well, you heard your grandmother. Let's move!”
“Remember, put whatever you want to keep in a pile separate from the others,” Grandma Sarah continued. “Anyone coming home with me in the RV should keep in mind that I can't haul too much and still have room for people. Be reasonable with what you take. If it's furniture you really want, we may have to have it shipped.”
Maggie held up her hand. “As far as furniture goes, I plan to sell the contents along with the house, so take only what you really can't live without.”
“That's saying something, Mom,” Lauren said. “Considering we've all been living without this stuff for quite a while. I can't think of anything except a few personal items from my childhood that I'd want to take.”
“That's a good point, and something we should all consider. We've been going on with our lives without all this stuff. It's hard to imagine there's much you can't live without.”
Christopher looked around the room. “Let's face it, these things represent our lives as a family. I don't want to ever forget what it was like to live here, but my memories don't depend on things. As long as we stay close, at least speaking for myself, I'll have everything I need to be happy.”
The room fell silent. The emotions were strong, and Maggie could feel the tears threatening to fall. But true to form, Grandma Sarah wasn't having any of it.
“Come on now. Let's not start crying or we'll get nothing done. I didn't drive fifteen hundred miles to have a pity party. Everyone, get on your feet and get moving, or I'll give you all something to cry about.”
The mood in the room shifted from solemn to cheerful chaos as everyone moved at once.
“Grandma, I told you what things I wanted. I'm probably fine with you all taking it from here. Thanks for including me, but I think I've got everything I want,” Beth said from the screen.
“Are you sure, honey?” Maggie asked.
“I'm sure. I'll catch up with you all later.”
Christopher ended the call and followed Becca upstairs to his room.
