The Valuables

Written by Kylie CoffinPhotography by Tori TisoI do not want the diamond rings.I don't want the furniture either.Take it all.I don't care what they're worth in dollars,the wedding band that goes three generationsback to a relative I never knew,the old cherry dresser.Take them both,they mean nothing to me.I'll take the scent of the house,inextricably tied to memories of her and I in it.I'll never be able to sell it,but it reminds me of that sweetness childhood holds.While you squabbled over how to divide up the valuables,I left the roomunstuck a newspaper clipping of her favorite movie starsfrom the side of her big boxy televisionand stuffed it in my purse.The picture reminded her of something she loved.I claimed it before it was thrown awaybecause it reminds me of someone I love.Do not mistake my aloofnesson the divvying up of our inheritanceas bitterness.I simply do not wish to bea vulture in a space that ismeant for doves.One day, this house will be leveled,and an office building or parking lot will erase itleaving no indication that we onceate ice cream bars here, laughing in the sun;that she would wave from her front step untilwe had driven far enough down the road thatshe could no longer see us.I know they aren't things that I can keep.Nothing of value is,but can I capture that old house scent?Those memories?Can I keep the creak of the floors as she came to greet us,the afternoons at the dining room table playing Barrel of Monkeysand putting America back together again in the United States puzzle?I know these possessions will fade,but they are worth something to me.