The furniture is divided among the children and grandchildren, several charitable organizations and a young couple from church. Mom selected the lucky recipients of her jewelry, some heirloom and priceless, others sentimental beaded bracelets and glittery clip-on earrings. The house is empty and clean, only waiting the final walk-through inspection from the manager. Where will we call home? Certainly each of our homes with husbands, wives or ourselves, in Washington, Oregon, Colorado and Texas. But what of the rolling wheat fields and vineyards, the familiar bicycle rides, the cool mornings and hot, dry days of summer in anticipation of the icy, foggy days of winter, the stories, some old and well-told, others new and refreshing? My brother’s text (Mom’s condo is empty) as he left Walla Walla this morning with the final U-Haul of possessions was bittersweet. Too sad to think of the lost connection to that place of our childhood and coming of age years, our parents’ home of 65 years. [Pioneer Park sculpture, Walla Walla, WA]