Katy McKenna Raymond  
Personal blog of christian writer Katy McKenna Raymond in Kansas City, Missouri

Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri


Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary

Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net

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(No Title)

"Be careful," I say to my seventeen-year-old son as he walks out the door, a huge cardboard carton in his arms. I am distracted, as mothers often are, and give my instructions in the mindless, absent, robotic way that mothers often do. "Yeah," he says, and I go back to my reading as the door slams shut. We are emptying my mother's house, piece by piece, memory by memory, dividing the valuable, discarding the dispensable and, hopefully, discerning the difference. I have come upon a fascinating letter, written by my grandfather to my mother, his only child. The letter is perhaps thirty years old, maybe older, but I have the distinct sense that I am the first to ever read it. The creases in the paper are sharp, as if Mom never refolded it to put it back in its envelope, as if she'd never opened the envelope at all. It has fallen to me to read it, though, as my mother has mixed the pertinent in with the impertinent, and it all must be sorted, for posterity's sake. The letter contains my grandfather's wishes for how my mother should handle his home and possessions after his death. He is specific, direct and intimidating in his directions. Since we dealt with his effects twenty-six years ago, this correspondence has no value beyond the sentimental. Suffice it that the details were handled at that time, and well, if I remember correctly. Suddenly, the words leap off the page, and Grandpa's voice inhabits them. I hit the ceiling. "What was Kevin carrying just now?" I ask, panicking. "The Haviland china." It's shocking how immediate, how present, the words of the dearly long-departed can be. "The antique French Haviland china is very valuable. Hire professionals if you must move it!" I feel disobedient on my mother's behalf, as if several generations of our family have perpetrated some disrespect or dishonor upon Grandpa's final hopes. Kev comes back in the house, having successfully completed the transfer of wealth. I heave a sigh, then laugh out loud, and hand him twenty bucks. He's now a professional mover, I tell myself. And the guilt passes.
Posted by Katy on 08/16/02 at 08:20 AM
Fallible Comments...
  1. Lisa--No! But that sure was fun. He couldn't believe his good fortune!
    Posted by Katy  on  12/31/69  at  12:00 PM
  2. you aren't going to offer him any more via comments on your blog, are you? ;)
    Posted by lisa  on  12/31/69  at  12:00 PM
  3. Hmmm...so that's what's happening. The great wealth transfer of 2002.
    Posted by Katy  on  12/31/69  at  12:00 PM
  4. wow, kevin gets all the cash.
    Posted by anne  on  12/31/69  at  12:00 PM
  5. This was wonderful. I chuckled at the end. Thanks for writing it.
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    Posted by Brent Rasmussen  on  12/31/69  at  12:00 PM
    6. Page 1 of 1 pages
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