Lately I've been cleaning out my grandmother's desk. It's an old drop front secretary style with a hutch and niches and cubbies and even a secret drawer or two. Of all the remnants of her life, this is the one piece of furniture she insisted I take.
It was a hassle I didn't relish, finding a mover to haul it from California to the Carolinas, and I admit I considered ignoring her final wishes. But there it was, in a will with only six key points: the desk was to come to me.
So like a good