This was my view when I woke up this morning. We got home last night from my grandmother's house in western North Carolina and leaving today for LaGrange and then
from there the next day for Portland, and so the transfer of objects begins: from bag to washer to dryer to different bag with a different set of objects. This old bedroom consists of layer upon layer of transition--from childhood to adulthood, from high school papers to college notes, from cleaning to accruing, from arriving to leaving.
Pretty wooden things: my cedar sweater box from Abe made a pedestal for the sweetly carved horse from my Justin.
My grandmom's summer cabin, in the west Carolina mountains.
we played family games, which proved that Grandmom still reigns queen of Jenkins Up.
And we joyed over the new generation, Grandmom's great-grandchildren, with the promise of more to come.
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