A Life for Sale by Glenna West Clutts The old man stood quietly as he picked up the scattered rose petals. The cool autumn breeze sifted gently through his white silken hair. His weakened body rested carefully against his cane His life lay before him like the well worn pages of an open book—a book with chapters filled with wondrous adventures, memories of far away places and a lifetime of sweat and tears. He watched as casr came and then departed. Each time a little piece of his life faded away. He thought to himself, “Is this all there is? Is this how it ends?” Parts of his life had been priced with a few dollars or cents. A sticker had been placed on memories. A dollar for the beautifully painted vase from China. Five cents for the buttons from his army jacket that he wore as he fought for his country in the trenches in Germany. A quarter for his wool socks mended by his wife before she died. The people sorted through his belongings as if they had no value. They laughed at some of his most treasured memories and threw others aside as if they were trash. His most prized statue had been bought to be used as a doorstop for a basement door. The statue that he had wrapped so carefully in his coat and carried in his lap all the way back from Greece as a surprise birthday present for his mother. He sat down to rest in the old cane bottom rocking chair that had sat in front of the fireplace for over fifty years. The rocking chair that had rocked each of his children to sleep at night. He cherished each back and forth motion because he knew soon that too would be gone. He was allowed only a few personal items in the retirement home. How did one filter through a lifetime and then fit it into a small box that would sit, no doubt, in a corner? As the day slowly faded away, the old man drifted off for his afternoon nap. Beside him in the rocking chair was a worn out coffee can, filled with trinkets he had gathered from the tables as no one was looking. Clutched in his hand were the remains of a pressed rose. A small hint of a smile settled on his face. Deep within his dreams, he was dancing with his beautiful bride again. The scent of her rose bouquet filled his nostrils as strains of the wedding waltz floated through the air. Even though his life had just been sold for a price, his memories were just beginning. After all, he thought, life really is worthless without memories to sooth your heart and soul. As dusk settled on his street, the last car drove away. The rocking chair tied on top swayed gently in the breeze. A strange scent of roses filled the air. Glenna West Clutts lives on the banks of Taneycomo in Branson, and teaches in Hollister. She writes fiction, non-fiction and poetry. She is a member of Owl Writers League. Her article "Decoration Day" appears in this issue of Sweetgum Notes Copyright © 2006. Do not reproduce without permission. Home Contents