is an other person's treasure.
I mentioned it before; my grandmother died this spring. It's taken months for the probate to do whatever a probate does (to be honest, I don't even know what the hell a probate is!) but slowly, things from her now-sold condo are making their way into our family's homes.
I've lived a college-life existence. Futons, used furniture, and mismatching cups, plates, and silverware. I have more invested in books than anything else... I've got four large book cases crammed to overflowing. Kole, too, has odd furniture. We picked up a third hand junior bed, even though she sleeps in my decade old double when we're together.
I started moving stuff today. Gone is the red pleather retro-couch, replaced by my Nana's velvet-to-the-touch beige and wood couch. Gone is the black futon: it was too hard to decide which was less comfortable; sleeping on it or sitting on it for more than a half hour straight. I've got new wooden end tables and a matching coffee table now, and Kole's got a real single bed. My 80's double bed is being replaced by a nice, comfy queen-sized one. And I no longer have odd dishes and cutlery, but a whole matching set, including my own gravy boat.
I don't have new things yet, but I'm slowly starting to have an apartment that resembles a home, not a dorm room. I feel glad that I got to keep some things that belonged to my grandmother, who would have been glad to see it put to good use. It's never a pleasant to think that you are profiting from someone else's death. I'm not. I'm just happy that I get to keep some things to remember her by. Things that we can use, rather than just throw away.