Around the time my son was born, I moved my mother from the family home in Fresno, CA to a small apartment near my family in the East Bay. It was somewhat traumatic for all involved. For me, the dissolution of the family home represented a lost connection to my own history. A few years later in early 2009, I had to move her, by then 90 years old, to a board and care facility. I resolved that the inevitable liquidation of most of her (our) remaining possessions could not pass without documentation. In the three days I had in which to pack up and clear out her life, I photographed almost every single item as it went into a container or out to the curb.