Buried Treasures

Satisfactory Essays
The property did not sell in 2012 and, in keeping with my promise, Cathy Garlock became our new realtor at the end of June 2013. On September tenth we were away in Lake Placid, in order to avoid dwelling on the fact that it was the day before Coty would have been twenty-eight, when I received a call from Cathy saying a Mr. Stephen Brown had made a serious offer for the property. For the next twenty-four hours, Kira and I considered the proposal, which was higher than the reserve we had set for the ill-fated auction. We accepted the offer, which meant that our casual approach to removing contents a little at a time suddenly had a deadline. Most of the Alson Clark artwork had already been relocated, and we had gradually removed approximately one hundred large trash bags filled with both wanted and unwanted wares over the previous five years. Now that it was apparent that the house was going to sell in 2013, we realized that the original mountain of work clearing out the contents was still a mountain of work. The channel side room between the living room and the master bedroom became a convenient spot to store almost anything no one knew what to do with otherwise. It was fondly referred to as the “antique room.” Paint cans with little or no paint remaining found a temporary parking place on a cheap set of metal shelves that should have been dropped off at the Thrift Store when the decision was made to bring them to the island instead. Old lamps that had been replaced or no longer worked were tucked in between chairs and small tables that were too dilapidated for further service. I pondered how the room got its name while my eyes scanned the conglomeration of junk. “Ah yes, there is the likely reason,” I said to myself as I focused... ... middle of paper ... ...ed through boxes stuffed with thousands of photos, letters, and other scraps of history. I rued the reality of living in a mansion. I questioned how one room and two walk-in closets could possibly hold that many possessions? It took several days before I accepted the fact that visual and mental overload had taken over and I could sort no more. I collected a myriad of items I wanted to scrutinize at a more leisurely pace, and I put those items into boxes that we then transported to our shared family home on Grenadier Island. Surely I left a few treasures behind, but I’m also excited about the prospect of enjoying the curious antiquities I expect to discover. As for the treasures that we missed during the final sorting, I’m pleased to share the riches with a new steward who shows so much potential as a kindred spirit! Works Cited Boat Shoes;, Tad Clark
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