The Story of Stuff

I went to an estate sale today.  Usually it's a lot of fun to see what treasures I can find on such an adventure.  However, today, as I walked through this (huge!) house full of someone else's stuff, I couldn't help but feel immensely sad.

Spread out in every room of this house was someone's entire life for droves of strangers to come rifle through.  From stocked up packages of toilet paper to books, shoes, furniture, coffee mugs, trinkets, and  vacation souvenirs, everything was on display and for sale to the highest bidder.  As I wandered from room to room the emotions continued to rise.  Each of these items belonged to someone.  Each had a special or unique meaning.  Each was given or chosen with a purpose.  I wished for a second that these items could talk, to tell their stories.  For example, the owner of this house had a collection of miniature beautiful glass figurines.  I imagined each one being purchased by a grandchild or picked out as a momento on a vacation to Niagara Falls.

What made me particularly sad was listening to one gentleman who was there talking on the phone.  I perused the titles of books in a back bedroom inadvertently eavesdropping while he talked to someone (loudly!) about the value of something he wanted to sell.  He loudly discussed the monetary value of this unknown item while he simultaneously dismantled a mantle clock to find markings or some value to this item as well.

I suddenly felt guilty invading this person's home.  It felt oddly voyeuristic to be picking through their personal items.  So I walked from room to room with my hands in my pockets and started wondering what had happened to this person/people.  Realizing (from the hospital bed, numerous walkers and canes, and electric lift chairs that were for sale) that this must be the home of an elderly couple who had probably lived a long life and had passed away or been placed in a nursing home didn't bring much consolation.  In the cupboards and closets and shelves of this beautiful home was the stuff that told the story of their life.  Each of these items meant something at some point and now it was being pawed through by people who wanted to get a bargain or make a buck.  So sad.