It's amazing what we keep in our attics
Thinking they'll be needed again one day
And the mementoes all rife with nostalgia
So lovingly and carefully packed away



No longer able to take care of my home
The task now was to choose what to keep
My new apartment was small, but convenient
Far more practical for my failing physique



Fighting my way through cobwebs and dust
I opened a window to let in fresh air
Surveyed the large room with amazement
At all the keepsakes that I'd stored up there



Odd pieces of furniture long past their prime
Held no attachments or sentiments for me
But in a dark corner and covered with a sheet
Was something I was very surprised to see



When I was eight, I got a dollhouse for Christmas
Even more special, it was handmade by my dad
I still remember my joy and the tears in his eyes
When I opened the best gift I'd ever had



Each room contained finely-crafted furniture
A complete home for a doll family of four
I knew that dad's love had gone into each piece
And for that reason, I valued it even more



Ah, the stories I invented for my doll family
The many adventures we all lived with zest
But as I grew older, they were all cast aside
As I went on to experience life at its best



Feeling surprising and strangely contented somehow
Though I'd resented having to move against my will
I was thankful to God for the life that I'd lived
While, in the dollhouse, all time had stood still



Kathleen McCoy Eldridge©
September 6, 2007
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