Story about Pricey Punkins

My parents are moving tomorrow. If you haven't noticed the posts about dealing with aging parents on the move, you can see here and here and here how it's been going.  And going.

I stopped by my childhood home last nite, because they keep finding shit in the house that they don't know what to do about and so they call me about either taking it, storing it, selling it, or launching it into the charity thrift store universe. The final call was about a leaf blower.  I have three gigantic trees so of course I want the leaf blower, as much as I HATE leaf blowers, Salty D. has been jonesing for one and hey, it would be free.

I ring their doorbell for the last time. The porch is festooned with fall decor.  Why the fuck is the porch still decorated if they're moving tomorrow? 

I ask to see the leaf blower. "Well," my dad explains, "it's more of a leaf SUCKER than a leaf BLOWER.  It lost the blowing attachment.  And it's pretty old and worn out." 

I resist my urge to make a joke about an old toothless hooker.

"So then why did you call me about it?"

"We don't know what to do with it!"  Just leave it for the new owners, I said.  My parents are already leaving a shed full of lawn crap as part of the deal.  My garage is already full of their crap. Besides, raking leaves once a year is better for the environment and eardrums.

Mom then offers a box of tea, packets of salad dressing, and some crackers.  "Here. I found these in the cupboard do you want them?"   I picked up each one.  "Expired. Expired. Expired."  

"Really?  I just bought that Hidden Valley. Are you sure?"  I proceed to read each past date to my mom.

Honestly, Hidden Valley Ranch dressing mix and tea can live beyond their expiration dates, I just didn't want one more fucking thing. 

I left as quickly as I could after reviewing all their final arrangements. The last thing I wanted was a twinge of nostalgia, and I didn't want to absorb any more of their anxiety and lingering sadness.

Then I stood on the porch and said, "Ma. WHY THE HELL did you decorate the porch if you knew you were moving this month?" 

"We're not moving til tomorrow!" 

"Yeah, but, you have pumpkins, flags, corn cobs..." 

She said defensively, "This is just some of the fall decoration.  I already have half of the decorations at the new house!  That porch has pumpkins and mums, and a wreath...."

I pointed to two very bright orange pumpkins.  "What are you doing with these?  Can I take them?"

Mom had to think for a second. Do I want to pack the pumpkins or leave them as a welcome gift for the new owner or let my daughter take them...  She replied, "They're very expensive pumpkins."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"  I exclaimed.

"Yeah," my dad added, "you wouldn't believe the price per pound. We got them in New Hampshire." 

Oh my Gawd. We live in Pennsylvania. Last month my parents went on a trip to Canada, and stopped in New Hampshire on the way, apparently to go to a pumpkin patch. That means the pumpkins have been driven about 1,000 miles.

But I wasn't about to make an offer on buying the well-traveled pricey pumpkins. 

"I'm taking the pumpkins, OK?" 

It's the only thing I've asked for in this whole move. Well, not true. I also asked if they were moving the pretty birdbath, and they were.  

I drove away from the cul-de-sac of many happy memories (blocked out all the bad shit, of course) and realized the one thing I was sad about them leaving behind - the big beautiful endless summer hydrangea bush in the front yard with its blooms of many colors, which are now faded blue, purple and pink and kind of look like this:

 

Comments

[Kristin]

Moving makes mortals mad!

We just planted two endless summer hydrangeas this year and they are cool.
I will miss the birch tree - oh wait, I still have the memories of playing Barbies under said tree.
I will miss their old phone number...

[blaugra]

Aaaah, suburban paradise.
I had the same thought about the birch tree.

My birch tree was to Barbies what your front porch was to Little People.

Stop waxing nostalgic!