A few years after Tony died, she sold the house and moved to Texas to be close to her brother only to realize she wanted to live the rest of her life in Denver. So she packed up and moved back to Colorado. By then her house was owned by a young couple with a golden retriever. We even met them.
Each time I visited Goldie in Denver, and I mean each time, we would drive by her former house on Umatilla Street. As I said, we even met the new owners. We would stroll by the house reminiscing, and once we took a photo of Goldie in front of her beloved home. Always Goldie would say what a big mistake she had made letting go of the house. She wished she had never sold the brick bungalow with the wood floors, high ceilings, located in a neighborhood she loved. There was a lifetime of memories for Goldie behind that front door, even if it wasn't her front door anymore.
When I was back in Colorado visiting Goldie this summer, of course we drove by the house again. Lo and behold the house was gone. Poof! The entire house had been torn down and something new was being constructed in its place. The land was there, but no brick bungalow. Goldie and I just stood and stared. I was so surprised and bummed, I forgot to take a photo.
Yet letting go is easier sung than done. That song came to mind when I found this slip of paper stuck to the bottom of a table I purchased at a thrift store last week. Apparently, the table was once the property of William and Alice. I felt as if I was stealing when I removed the tag though there's a good chance William and Alice are dead. Or not. Either way somebody said this table has got to go. Even if we slap a "property of" tag on something we possess, eventually it won't belong to us. I don't think heaven has storage units. Maybe hell, but everything would just burn up, anyway.
There's a little bit of hoarder in all of us, even if look with pity, or even contempt at the hoarders on reality television. We all have stuff we like to keep. We might not keep furniture, but we might old photos. We might not stay in the same house, but we might cling to an old dream.
So now I don't really need, or have room for this other table. But still I hesitated to let it go. When I was young, and seemed always to be moving, I lived that let it go song all the time. Now even the thought of moving exhausts me. I grow fond of stuff so easily. Recently, I was challenged to ask myself three times a day this question. What am I holding on to? At first I thought I wouldn't be holding on to much each day, but surprise surprise. So now it's my turn to let go of a table.
Without having to say so, I knew Goldie had finally let the house go. If we can release the old to let in the new, who knows how our gardens will flourish and grow.