The Gift

I've got another story to tell - I wasn't going to tell it, but I just can't help it.

It all began when Pop-Pop and Grammy (really Grammy) decided to move out of their home of 45 years. Grammy called my sister-in-law and asked her to come and take what she wanted from the house - and my sister-in-law did . . . 3 times . . . once with 2 cars. Then Grammy called the antique dealer and asked him to come and take what he wanted, and he did. Then Grammy called the local junk man and asked him to take what he wanted, and he did. Then Grammy called The Salvation Army and asked them to take what they wanted, and they did. Then Grammy called me . . . and asked me come and take what I wanted . . . and I did not. I did not want to pick through her junk. On the day before they moved I went to their house, that is my husband's childhood home, and made sure their boxes were packed and labeled. On the day they moved I was there to direct the movers, sweep the floors, load their car and take out the last of the garbage. That's when Grammy said, "I have something for you in the kitchen closet." My heart raced with anticipation as I thought she really did have something especially for me. I gladly went to the closet and found a large trash bag there. I slowly walked over to the bag and untied it . . . and I could not believe what was in it. Toilet paper. The bag was filled with rolls of toilet paper. As I type this, it still stings. A friend of mine said I should have sent her a thank you note that says, "Thanks for the toilet paper. Every time I go to the bathroom I think of you." I almost wish I could do that....................