packing up the kitchen

She stood in the kitchen. Surrounded by boxes. The countertops were bare. The cabinets were empty. It was a strange feeling. Like she was saying goodbye to something. But she wasn't sure what. Her mother had moved to an assisted living home. The house was being sold. She was packing up the last of the kitchen. The dishes. The pots and pans. The utensils. It was all being packed away. Put into boxes. Labeled. And then it would be gone. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. Part of her was relieved. Her mother was safe. She was being taken care of. But another part of her was sad. This was the end of an era. The house had been in their family for years. Now it was being sold. The kitchen was being packed up. She stood at the sink. Looking out the window. Remembering all the times she had stood there. Washing dishes. Cooking meals. Talking to her mother. The memories were flooding back. As she packed up the last of the kitchen. She put the final dish in a box. And sealed it. It was done. The kitchen was packed up. And she was left standing there. Alone. In the silence.