Teri White Carns

Marie Kondo-ing the 1950s

brown spider
leaving her bare web behind
for the wind

When we found muddy arrowheads in the shallow creek, we stashed them in shoe boxes. Our mothers put the blue folders full of pennies (always missing the coveted and maybe mythical 1909 San Francisco VDB) in a corner of the garage. They stored the fancy Barbies that we weren't allowed to play with in their original boxes beneath our beds.

We sold our treasures a few years ago and moved to Florida to play golf and bask in the winter sun. Our Gen X children took our Barbies and Scout badges, the gemstones that fit into specimen boxes to consignment shops when they moved us to assisted living condos. Our Millennial grandchildren gave our baseball cards and comic books to thrift stores as they tried to settle our large and twisted estates.

The wills say “I leave my darlings Madison and Jane the silver tea set, the Limoges china, and the table linens. I leave them my collection of silver dollars and toy soldiers and Madame Alexander dolls.” Madison and Jane's parents hope that they can sell the golf clubs, the dinner sets, the penny collections on eBay, Craigslist. “What are these? Why would anyone keep them?” the grandchildren ask themselves, anxious to settle the estates so that they can pay their college loans.

her mother’s jewels
set out for the courting crows
to decorate nests