My Attachment to Things, So Embarrassing
When Daddy Joe died—killed by a train in what the responding officer called as clean a t-bone as he’d ever seen—Mother said she stopped caring about things. Only people mattered. I always took this to mean that attachment to things was shallow.
Yet.
I love my new burnt sienna pillow cases in wrinkly linen. I love my 1950s TV trays I’m...