Grandma Wilma’s Ashes

The morning after the fire, we dug through the rubble, hoping to steal back, from the destruction, pieces of our lives.

Important:

Russell, the cat? Devastated to be outside, but found where the garage used to be.

Family photos? Not even one survived.

Grandpa’s old war rifles? One water damaged, the rest okay. I guess.

Inherited jewelry? Disintegrated, except for Mom’s wedding band.

Not important:

Harry Potter book set? Half of Book #3 intact.

Monopoly game board? Almost completely char-free.

Basket of knitting yarn? Four viable rolls.

Most important:

Grandma Wilma’s ashes? In her cast iron urn, unharmed.

****