Finally the rain subsided. We watched the sump pump from the doorway, blocked partially by the moving boxes that hold Grandma’s kitchen. Dad on the porch in his raincoat, Mom and I perched on the threshold, a container of peanuts on a MISC KITCHEN box by the door.
The nuts were leftover from two days prior, sustenance for sorting through sheets, books, figurines, and gifts she hadn’t given us yet.
Mmm, would you hand me that file folder and put some peanuts on it?
Floods of memories and rain both call for refreshment.
