Final Exit Estate Sale

An early edition of Final Exit, a book well known to those interested in death and dying, lay in a cardboard box tossed in the driveway. One neighbor prepared his motor home for a southbound exit for the winter. Another had pitched a weekend tent and large rain cover next to an irrigation system for the new house he plans to build soon.

Next to the box stuffed with books and magazines, in the graveled lane, sat a mixture of used pet dishes, small tools, a few plants. All part of an estate sale setting, the bright orange signs told neighbors and passersby.

What they did not tell was that the house’s owner had made her final exit by her choice and her hand in that house, on a cold, dark day six months earlier.

For two days prior, unfamiliar cars had raced past my cabin, drivers with bargain hunting focused glaze.

Inside the house, I imagined myself living there.

I pondered how she, a tall, attractive sixtyish woman, sat in her comfortable heavy chair, looking past the massive stone fireplace to expansive views of the majestic Three Sisters mountains. I could see her laughing, sharing good food and wine with guests around the dining table as they sat on custom-made wooden lattice chairs. Perhaps they had enjoyed the hot tub and grilled freshly caught fish in the outdoor kitchen. Maybe they listened to the waterfall into pond.

Strangers now riffled through the items that she had purchased or been given. Some squealed with delight at their finds…