Harold (a wooden Indian) sits in the end seat at the cafe counter. Suzie says he was carved by a local Indian craftsman. I moved carefully by him at first, thinking he was just a quiet person who needed a little time alone.
Suzie went back to peeling a huge pile of potatoes for the red chili stew she was making - the strong smell totally filled the cafe. She talked with us about the special silence - a different way the air feels and sounds in the NM mountains. She talked about the lack of crime and her amazement with the retired folks moving to the mountains who build 5,000+ sq ft houses in the woods.
Then we talked of "stuff" and how so many of us at this age want to downsize and simplify our lives. When her parents died within months of each other, Suzie took everything - a lifetime of their "stuff" and not being able to deal with it, stored it in her home. It's been 5 yrs now and she's trying hard to understand our need to hang onto things as if they were memories to never forget.
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