walking I hear the echo of someone else's steps

I'm wearing someone else's shoes today. They fit me very well. Their someone else is gone now.

We haunted two estate sales this last weekend. We wandered through houses that had been homes, filled with the parts of lives that were left behind; leftover things that were either unneeded or unwanted by those who loved the people who had gone on. It was an unsettling journey. In both cases (running my hands over handmade quilts, standing face upturned to the afternoon light through stained glass windows, reading the spines of well cared for books, trying on fine wool sweaters, and these beautiful Italian shoes) I had this very strong knowledge that I would have been friends with these folks had we met.

I find myself wanting to celebrate these people who have died, who I only know through the things they left behind.