OTHER PEOPLE'S THINGS in Postcards 4

I remember once, or twice, in my twenties longing to own new furniture. Now I am 80 and living with a house filled with other people’s furniture. As an example, my mattress is new, but the bed frame was Harriett’s. That’s one item. But there are so many more…Just look at that picture.

The picture on the wall was mine, but the white bookcase below it was Grandma Maudies. The camel chests were George’s mom and dads. The lamp was my mother’s father, Gimpa. The Morris chair in front of it was Gimpa’s too. Though the sofa is new Ikea, my favorite chair was once Bobbies…and much closer to the floor. George gave it new legs.

I guess that over the years I have grown into acceptance that all this stuff is me. George’s family lived with rooms of things bought in Pakistan. My family lived with Gimpa’s things. Even blue chairs sometimes feel they are living a split life.

My poor kids will have to live with the generational confusions.

• Himself: Taking the week off. What fun.
• Myself: Cleaning up the wreckage of my present.
• Reading: “The Only Way to Cross.”
• Watching: Antiques Roadshow and Jay Leno’s Garage.
• Photo: Both mine.
• Gratitude’s: That I got to sleep in this morning.