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Packing Up by Charlotte Savidge February 1, 2007 On the other side of the country my parents are loading the Subaru with wrought iron chairs, tile end tables, gray and red cushions the new owners don't want. That last morning, Mother pulls the ribbed bedspreads even and smooth. She won't have to fight them anymore. I remember the pictures I didn't take: The A-frame from the river, the horse meadow with its leaning barn, me in my Keds running down the dirt road to reach our red door, Mother's loud "Don't track pitch onto the carpet." When I call them, they'll have to remind me, the road is paved. About the author: Charlotte Savidge grew up in the Napa Valley and has lived most of her adult life in Brookyn, New York, where she currently resides. She has taken poetry courses with William Packard, Stanley Plumley, and Natalie Illum, and her work has appeared in "The New York Quarterly." She has written and edited travel guides, institutional communications pieces, and countless grant proposals, and is also a fine art photographer. |
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