“It’s just stuff.”
That’s what he said when I showed him the photographs.
“But it was SOMEBODY’S stuff!”
I tried to explain.
This shirt may have been worn to a job interview or even in a wedding. That purse may have been a treasured gift for Christmas or a birthday. And that suitcase may have once contained all the things someone owned.
“But the mattress… it’s just trash.”
Even the mattress may have been the place someone dreamed of a better life. Or maybe the spot a husband made love to his wife for the very first time.
“Why take pictures of junk? This place should be burned down.”
With that, a tear slide down my cheek. All of those memories lost and forgotten. It’s just stuff.
The history
I found this home in Williams, AZ. According to public records, it had been built in the 1950’s. Old enough to be forgotten.