Nonfiction | March 01, 1992

This essay is not currently available online.

For two weeks Vicki weeded the attic and raked closets, stuffing toys into boxes in the front hall and building a compost of clothes in the basement. Then for four days she washed and folded. Finally, though, fall and tag sale arrived. On October 5, I got up early and lined one side of the driveway with bookshelves. On them Vicki stacked clothes:  children’s shirts and sweaters priced fifty and seventy-five cents apiece and trousers from fifty cents to two dollars. Down the other side of the driveway were the furnishings of two rooms:  lamps, chairs, tables, even two playpens. Against the garage door were toys:  a one-cent box, a five, a ten, and finally a twenty-five-cent box.

If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.

SEE THE ISSUE

SUGGESTED CONTENT