“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.

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