327 Market

Today has been a lovely day. I had a scratchy throat so I skipped choir.

The boxes from my grandparents' house were formidable. I unpacked them and the dishes covered the floor of the living room. The newpaper smelled of the must and years of burning insense. The dishes still had the years of frog water scum (the la honda water is legendary, when you fill up the tub, you can't see the bottom, when you filled a glass, you could see bits of dirt floating in it). The beakers washed up nice and I aired out the cool hatbox. As I was sitting in the big pile of newspaper I had a flashback to when my great-grand-mother died in the 80's. In 20 years I'll be doing this for my parents. In forty years, they will be doing it for me. The generations cycle relentlessly on. This makes me want to make sure I have a good relationship with the Knee-Biter. She'll be planting everyone in my immediate family into the ground. I kind of feel sorry for her.

Its all rather beautiful and terrifying.