Last night, I hung a small framed picture on a wall in the bedroom. It was something my grandma gave me a long time ago. I got to thinking about ‘things’ ---how we hold onto things, whether we need them or not. There are feelings and emotions attached to things and it makes them mean something special to us. It’s because we’re human. .
When I was young, I remember climbing the steep stairs to my grandma’s attic. There was so much old stuff up there. I asked her why she didn’t throw away all that junk. Grandma held me on her lap and I had my first lesson on why we keep things, even when it seems we don’t need them anymore.
Grandma shared stories about:
The old clothing she saved in a cedar chest was from her honeymoon.
Why Grampa kept an old-fashioned stereograph from his father.
A pile of old piano sheet music. Grampa played it and sang to her.
What three dried rose bouquets meant to her when they were poor.
Then she showed me several dusty steamer trunks that came all the way across the ocean with our ancestors. One trunk held old picture albums full of relatives I didn’t know, but Grandma did. She knew all of their names and how we were related to them.
There was also a box filled with yellowed love letters my grandfather wrote to her when he was away, fighting in the war. They were all tied together with a faded pink ribbon. I saw my grandma wipe away a tear. She said she kept them because he shared his private thoughts and love with her.
Then Grandma pulled a small lavender box from one of the camel back trunks. I was surprised it still smelled like flowers! Inside, was a favorite picture of my mama when she was young.
The photo was crackled, its corners bent, but there she was, my Mama. A bandana was tied around her head to hold her curls in the stiff ocean breeze. Her pants were rolled up mid--calf, and the cuffs were just barely skimming the water. She looked so happy.
How I wish I had known her then. She was young and pretty and living carefree in a world filled with Daddy, before children and cancer. Grandma gave me the small lavender box with the picture inside. I learned so much that day and I thanked her.
In Grandma’s dusty attic, from an old steamer trunk, I was given a priceless treasure. It was a special thing, something I would keep with me forever to remind me of a love that had so shaped me over my life.
How terribly I still miss her ...
I also loved Grandma's musty dusty old attic.