Spring Mountain Spring Moon
Text message yesterday from a realtor handling a Saturday open house. A big tree blew over or just fell down and smashed the grandchildren’s playhouse. Kate had a lot of investment in the playhouse, fixing it up especially for Ruth and Gabe’s visits. Inside it had our old fireplace mantle, a small children’s table, a wicker and metal chair, an heirloom rocker, a crystal chandelier, a nice rug and electricity.
A piece of yesterday still owned by us was gone. And we had to deal with it. I put in an online claim to USAA and we’ve tried to reach them this morning, but no luck so far. The tree has to be removed from the immediate site and the remains of the playhouse will have to be disposed of. That’s something we’ll have to coordinate from here with the help of our realtor.
After time considering it, it came to me that the playhouse was the only object in Andover that had been devoted to the grandkids. It’s summary removal can be seen as elimination of our last family connection there. It’s as if a message were lit above the ruins: Now you have fully left this land. So I’m choosing to see it as a mark of our passage from Minnesota, a passage that will be complete when the house sells.