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Rated: E · Short Story · Emotional · #965546
This is about an estate sale I went to. It is a house full of memories being sold.
Sold Memories



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As I stepped into the foyer of the house, there sat a lady at a cash register. "Welcome," she said. "There is someone in each room to help you."

As I walked into the first livingroom, I saw an over-stuffed, high-back chair, with hand made dollies on the arms and back. It was marked sold. On the fireplace mantel were two silver picture frames where the family photos used to be. On them were marked twenty dollars. There sat a beautiful coffee table with small figurines, that looked like the owner had just placed them there. The coffee table was marked three hundred dollars.

As I continued on into the second livingroom the lady in the room ask, may I help you?No thank you I am just looking,in this room was a beautiful portrait of a woman, she was very lovely.The price marked on it was five hundred dollar.I imagine the woman in the portrait, most have been the mistress of the house.Nothing else got my eye,so I move on into the kitchen. There on the table was a beautiful china set, with a pink rose pattern with fourteen carat gold edging, marked one hundred and fifty dollars. I had to wonder if this was their wedding set. Everything looked very old. You could tell that the couple who once lived here, treasured these things through the years. How many dinners had been served on this table I wondered, as I ran my hand across the wood? As I continued looking around the kitchen, I noticed that on the stove there still sat a teapot, as if it was just another morning.

On each of these things were price tags, which brought me back to the here and now. With a sigh, I headed for next room, through the bathroom, through the hallway, then up some stairs. As I entered the next room, I felt a tug at my heart. I could tell it had been a childs room at one time. In front of the window was a hand made, hand-carved toy chest. Someone had made it with loving care. I would think that the child to whom these things belonged too, would want to keep them. The price on the toy chest was one hundred dollars. On the bed laid a quilt. Looking closer, I could see that the stitches were done by hand. I could picture the mother sitting in front of the fireplace, sewing on this quilt, making sure each stitch was done with love.

What wonderful times must have been spent in this room. Why would anyone want to sell these precious memories?

"Excuse me." I heard a voice say.

Just then a lady made her way past me. Well enough of this I told myself, and I stepped out into the hall. I headed down the hall to the next room. As I looked in, there were people walking about looking at different things. This must have been the guest room. I continued down to the next room. There on the bedroom door hung a wedding dress. How beautiful it was. I tried to picture what that day must have been like for them. Two young people so much in love. Him, looking so handsome waiting for her to come down the isle. Here she comes, all eyes on her. She must have looked beautiful in her wedding dress. How could she know that it would be up for sale all these years later? In the middle of the room was the antique bed they slept in all these years, and conceived their children in; and more than likely they had been borned in. The dress tag showed that it was marked seven hundred dollars, and the price of the bed was marked for eight hundred dollars. As I stood in the room looking around, I felt like I got a glimpse into these peoples lives. I almost felt like I knew them.

As I left the room and walked down the stairs to the foyer, a feeling of sadness came over me. Then it hit me, I was feeling the sadness of the couple that had lived here. Maybe they still do in spirit.

When I reached the foyer, the lady at the cash register asked, "Did you not find anything that interest you?"

"No," I said.

I left feeling good about not taking any of the precious memories from the house. When I got in my car, I felt very glad I had visited.












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