The things they took
Today my two youngest children drove away from home in a caravan of three vehicles packed with their belongings. It’s not as if they went very far—just thirty minutes down the road. It’s not as if I won’t see them, but they aren’t here now. I will no longer wait up to know that all are safe within my walls (or abdicate that late-night task to my husband, the night owl of the family). All my babies have grown up and flown the nest. (Well, maybe these last two were pushed, but they’re gone.) They took their beds—the many-times painted iron bed that I inherited when I moved away from home and came to Auburn. Daddy sanded and spray-painted that bed mauve; it was the color at the time and I loved it, but now seeing the same color kind of makes me sick because I still remember how much of that pink color existed in my bedroom. The queen sleigh bed we couldn’t afford to buy but that I was so excited to buy to replace the full-sized iron bed went, too. They took the high-backed oak ba...