Hoarded Gain

Yesterday I had to take Calvin (affectionately referred to as Calvi, pronounced calvee) to the neurologist.  I was excited to see an estate sale at a sweet home I've admired for years.  A little white cape cod settled amongst ferns and gardens.  I decided to stop in because (and wouldn't you agree?) estate sales are way more fun than neurology visits.  At least in my book.

As I watched strangers descending on their items I kept hearing the old verse humming its tune in my ear; "Dust to dust the mortal dies, both the foolish and the wise. None forever can remain, each must lose his hoarded gain."

It was kind of cold to see this beautiful little home, stocked with memories and treasures, being sold piece by piece to buyers only aware of monetary value. Life whittled down to dollar amounts. Why am I so sentimental about it?  I have no idea.

As I was relating this to Darryl in the car, he just looked at me and slyly commented, "But those that do remain, scrummage through that hoarded gain."  True, true, point taken.