Sherry and I were walking our way through the county roads of Iowa going from the northern border of the state to the south when we came upon a farm auction not far out of the little town of Boone. Pickup trucks and dusty cars lined either side of the road, and the miked voice of an auctioneer floated above the rows of corn.
I spotted the Nelsons, husband and wife, on the front porch of the farmhouse their grandfather had built, watching as neighbors and strangers grouped around the various tables of goods for sale in boxes organized by category. Kitchen supplies on one table, bedding, towels and curtains on another. Everything must go.
Straw hatted veterans were inspecting the tractors and bailers in the large red barn. Others milled among the livestock patting the flanks of mares and observing the dozen or so cows grazing on the Iowa grass.
The local bank could wait no longer. When the sun set that evening, a lifetime had been sold.
Sherry and I held hands as we slowly walked away.