Evergreen Stories
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A Mystery

The home is old, with a saggy wrap-around porch, overgrown weed-patch lawn, and peeling dusty-green paint. The windows peering out from the house have watched the neighborhood children, the cats and dogs, moms and dads going about their business for over nine decades.

Today is a big day. Today for once and for all and for good, the family is moving out. The old woman who has lived in the old house for many, many years has gone "up north" somewhere, Minnesota perhaps, to live closer to her children. That much I learn from the estate liquidation specialist, whose business card I take. But I don’t pry for details or ask for history. I only know that the woman lived there for a good long time because another estate sale enthusiast told the room at large about how he lived in the neighborhood and had known her for years.

I linger at an oak pedestal table set center stage in the old family dining room. Spread over a hand-crocheted cloth, scattered like fallen leaves on a cracked sidewalk in October, hundreds of photos lie in complete disarray. Women and men, old and young, children and babies fixed forever with smiles or scowls or blank expressions. Who were they? Where have they gone? What happened to them? Where are their stories?

 

 

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