Preparing to move that summer,
we had a yard sale.
We kept the house open
to sell larger items.
While selling a sofa to a neighbor
a young man walked in and asked
about the guitar behind the door.
“It’s not for sale,” I said.
“My husband wouldn’t part with it.”
I was called outside then.
I gave it no thought until after we moved
and my husband couldn’t find
his pride and joy,
his Fender fretless bass guitar.
The last we remembered seeing it,
was behind the door.
I learned something that summer.