The downside to staying in the same house for centuries was that junk piled up.
No one was a hoarder, or lazy. It was only natural to accumulate things over multiple lifetimes. And with the ample storage space their ancestral home boasted, it was easier to keep things away than throw them out, especially when someone passed.
But everything had a limit, and when the rooms on all three floors of the north east wings were filled, they knew it was time to do some spring cleaning.
All family members were called back. Even with all hands on deck, it would take them months, maybe even years to clear everything.
That didn’t stop them from getting distracted.
Most of the things collecting dust in their rooms were junk, but they were antique junk. While common in the past, they were almost impossible to find now. The older generation might have some exposure, but for the younger ones, everything was unknown. All over the building, similar conversations took place between the generations.
“What’s this?” a young boy asked as he dragged a briefcase almost as large as he was.
“It’s a telephone,” one of his great-grandaunties answered.
After three years of hard work, half of the items ended up back in storage anyway, but now they were properly displayed to satisfy the curiosity of the generations to come.
Genre: slice of life, family
If you’re curious, look up ‘briefcase telephone’.
Camp NaNoWriMo short story count: 9/31