A few mornings later, I stopped at the feed store.
I needed a small bag of birdseed.
There were sparrows gathering near the porch swing, and I thought it would be nice to put something outside for them.
Mr. Brandt was behind the register.
He looked up when I entered.
"Morning, Judy."
"Good morning."
He pointed toward the door.
"How's the little house treating you?"
I smiled.
"Very well."
"Still glad you took it?"
"Every day."
He laughed.
I paid for the birdseed.
Then he asked whether I had managed to get everything moved from the farmhouse.
"Almost."
I told him there were still a few things in storage.
Some boxes.
An old lamp.
A couple of kitchen items.
Nothing important enough to hurry.
He nodded.
Then he asked a question I hadn't expected.
"Are you happy there?"
I looked at him.
It was such a simple question.
But I took a moment before answering.
"Yes," I said.
Then I added, "Sometimes I miss the old place."
"That makes sense."
"It was home for a long time."
He nodded.
"Places hold memories."
I smiled.
"They certainly do."
On my way out, I glanced at the register.
The old rental notice was still taped beside it.
The paper had become slightly yellow at the edges.
I remembered seeing it before I had made my decision.
Three weeks of looking at it.
Three weeks of thinking it wasn't meant for me.
I almost laughed.
If I hadn't asked Mr. Brandt about that little house, I might have accepted Michelle's basement offer.
I might have spent the winter counting my money and trying to fit my life into a small room.
Instead, I was paying $550.
I had a front door.
I had a back door.
And I had two keys on a metal ring.
When I got home, I filled a small container with birdseed.
I placed it near the porch.
Then I sat on the swing.
The morning was cool.
A truck passed toward the elevator.
I watched it disappear.
I thought about Dale.
He would have liked this little place.
He wasn't a man who needed much.
He liked a quiet chair, a cup of coffee, and somewhere to put his tools.
He probably would have complained about the kitchen drawer.
Then he would have fixed it.
I smiled.
Sometimes memories came back so clearly that I almost forgot they were memories.
That afternoon, I received a telephone call from the Olson family.
Their son was settling into the farmhouse.
They thanked me for leaving the place clean.
I thanked them for allowing me to stay as long as I had.
The conversation was kind.
There were no hard feelings.
After I hung up, I looked around my kitchen.
I was beginning to understand that leaving one home didn't mean I had to leave every memory behind.
Dale was still part of my life.
Michelle was still my daughter.
The grandchildren were still my grandchildren.
My home had changed.
My place in the family was changing too.
That evening, Michelle called again.
She asked whether I wanted to come over for supper on Saturday.
I told her I would love to.
She said the children had been asking when they could see me.
I smiled.
"Tell them Grandma is coming."
Then she asked whether I needed a ride.
I looked toward my Buick.
"No, sweetheart. I'll drive."
She laughed.
"All right."
After the call, I made myself another cup of tea.
I looked at the two keys beside the telephone.
One for the front door.
One for the back.
I picked them up and turned them over in my palm.
They were small things.
But they represented a decision I was glad I had made.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: At Saturday Supper, My Granddaughter Asked Whether I Would Ever Move Back, and Everyone at the Table Waited for My Answer
My Daughter Had a Price for Giving Her Widowed Mother a Place to Sleep, and I Had to Decide What My Years Were Worth
Part 11 of 20
