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DSC_0452As my children grow, enter new stages of their life, little pieces of them fall away.  Most notable is my fifteen year old boy who suddenly, as if a giant pushed through a clay statue to emerge through crumbling shards, is this hulk who looks me straight in the eye.  Alyssa, my cute little redhead, lives away from me a few hours at her college in Indiana.  My kids are not little children any more.

I sold their bunk bed today.

The memory of the evening I went over to disassemble that bed to take it home still is fresh in my mind.  My friends Scott and Becky had bought the bed only to find out that their son would not sleep in it.  They just wanted to get rid of the bed, offered to me for free if I would come take it apart and take it away, an offer impossible to refuse.  It was new, solid oak, and with sheets and comforter.  Alyssa was six, Nate three, and they couldn’t wait to try it out, jumping on the bed as I assembled it in their room, curly red and blonde hair bouncing as they leapt.  We bought some of those glow in the dark stars to stick on the ceiling above the bed, a comforting glow as we shut out their bedroom light.  A few years later, we separated the bed when Alyssa grew old enough to need the privacy of her own room, well on her way to becoming a little woman.

I think it is a little ironic that Alyssa’s boyfriend was the last to sleep on the bed.

I replaced Nate’s bed last December, moved his portion of the bunk bed to the garage for storage.  Alyssa still needed the bed for when she came home to visit for the Christmas to New Year’s holiday break from college.  I disassembled her bed last night, reassembled the complete bed in the garage last night, took a picture, listed it on Craigslist for a price I knew was fair.  In all honesty, I would just give it to a young couple who needs it, happy that it would bring excited joy to their children.

The email came about an hour ago.  We’re interested in purchasing your bunk bed.  Will you take $125?  Madigan was her name.  She left her phone number, so I called.  I could her the excitement in her voice, her children dancing around her as she spoke to me.  Her husband will come by this afternoon to pick it up.

Bye, bye.

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