Tuesday, 25 July 2017
A Quiet Day At Home
spent cleaning out the china cabinets and wiping off all the little doodads and itsy bits inside. There was a depression glass Iris vase and a cut glass vase that used to hold childhood offerings of lilacs and vast bunches of weeds for Mom and Gram. They are empty now. Only the memories remain. A ruby glass pitcher that I admired all my days in Moms kitchen cupboard and now it is in my china cabinet. Just a pitcher, but oh the memories. A clock that ticktocks along merrily that was once a wedding gift for a young couple no longer with us. With each tick and tock I think of them. Tiny cups and saucers that once held Easter eggs for an excited little girl. I treasure them still. Items I once gave parents or grandparents come home to roost with their memories attached. War medals and pocket watches, photos, an egg cup that adorned my grandfathers place setting every morning. The flotsam and jetsam of life...their lives...my life...telling stories only I remember.