Grave Robbing

At an estate sale, I sift behind Death's recent visit, life's recent departure. A calendar with a meeting marked on August 17th that wasn't attended. Crutches and walkers in a corner, adult diapers- things that herald the end of life. And then, nothing. No more use for all the things accumulated over a lifetime. Things things so many things. Why do we make more things when so many already exist? Humanity will never run out of things. I swoop in and buy things that people forgot they had long before they died. I sell them to other people who will forget them, but I also fill my house to make it pretty and warm and feel like something I made. A nest of things, a living space work of art that should somehow express oneself, welcome others, aggrandize, and still be a comforting home.

A man in the bookstore said he'd seen me three times today. Apparently he was at the antique store, too. I hadn't noticed him.