a neighbor of mine
passed away in december.
he lived alone,
but has family and friends
who will be taking care of the stuff that he left behind.
as far as i know,
his most prized possession, by far, was his motorcycle.
that was totally his baby.
his friends were around the other day loading it up into a trailer.
i could see all this from my living room window.
when i saw what they were doing,
i stopped everything and just stood there and watched.
as crazy as it sounds, it was my way to just say goodbye to him.
we weren’t close, i barely knew him.
tho i heard about his motorcycle trips when we did chat.
and i knew how proud he was of that bike.
i watched them roll it outta the garage.
i thought about how weird life is.
how things really are just things.
but i hoped whoever was getting the bike treasured it too.
i said goodbye to him quietly there in my living room.
and i thought about my own stuff.
i really don’t have any thing at all that’s a real treasure –
well, only in the people in my life. not in my stuff.
i don’t really know why.
i don’t think i’m all enlightened about stuff.
i really don’t know why it is.
but as i thought about it, i couldn’t come up with any thing
that you would look at and say ‘THAT was her treasure.’
tho, i knew if you looked at my sons or my husband,
there would be no doubt THEY are the treasures.
that works out good, i think.
i liked it when i realized that.
i done good there.
and i want to keep that in mind as i go along.
are we treasuring the real treasures in our lives?
do they know? do they feel it?
i’m thinking that there is always always room for
improvement in that department.
and so, as i turned from my window,
i went back to my life a little more determined
to focus on the love – and the treasures that i will some day