The Junk

Every time she visited the house she made a beeline for the attic. It was full of the most beautiful junk you had every seen. She would play for hour upon hour up in that attic. Dressing up in old gowns long forgotten by time, playing with toys that had seen better decades, imaging a world of the past that only she could see. As she grew up the junk became less interesting being replaced by boys and make-up and shoes, lots and lots of shoes. It was not until later when the junk was gone ,the house that held it sold and the grandmother who had kept it long dead, that she remembered those long afternoons and longed for the junks return. She became a keen flea market and garage sell shopper going from place to place slowly find items that reminded her of the junk in that attic and slowly but surely as each new piece was acquired she had more junk then even that old attic had held and as she watched her own grandchild head right for the attic she knew that one day all this junk would be sold off piece by piece as history would invariably repeat itself, for the she would die and the little girl in the attic would grow up and discard this junk for boys, make-up and probably even shoes because she was her grandmothers, granddaughter after all.