You Can't Replace Everything
Mozart provides a backdrop. The walls contain memories.
Straight ahead I contemplate a woven piece brought back from a trip taken to India by my son David and his wife Peggy. "It's an old piece-- note the small mirror."
When we went to Cleveland for the birth of our first grandchild, David gave us a painting done by a Navaho medicine man. " To keep you well and release any harmful spirits."
I did the small weaving. Shells Incorporated into the varied shades of wool yarn remind me of my times at the ocean. These shells, collected by my friend Jean and her three boys, once hung on a necklace. The summer before Elyse turned ten she made three or four necklaces. For years the one she made for me hung on a nail until it simply fell apart.
A photo of the Taj Mahal at sundown, a page out of an early McGuffey reader, and a photo of the merry-go-round on Martha's Vineyard all share a space over a bookcase. David and Peggy spent a year traveling the year after he decided that the financial world wasn't his bailiwick . A man who ran a used bookstore gave me the McGuffey page, " It's not worth much, but I know how much you love books." I took the photo of the merry-go-round.
I'll not turn around to describe all the photos and places behind me save for a missing piece. I once collected unicorns. A unicorn Elyse gave me stood on the bookcase. It's been gone for years.
I look around the room- a cup and saucer from my mother's collection, a prayer book belonging to both my parents, and mementoes from friends. David's photos and gifts and a unicorn that no longer is here.
Straight ahead I contemplate a woven piece brought back from a trip taken to India by my son David and his wife Peggy. "It's an old piece-- note the small mirror."
When we went to Cleveland for the birth of our first grandchild, David gave us a painting done by a Navaho medicine man. " To keep you well and release any harmful spirits."
I did the small weaving. Shells Incorporated into the varied shades of wool yarn remind me of my times at the ocean. These shells, collected by my friend Jean and her three boys, once hung on a necklace. The summer before Elyse turned ten she made three or four necklaces. For years the one she made for me hung on a nail until it simply fell apart.
A photo of the Taj Mahal at sundown, a page out of an early McGuffey reader, and a photo of the merry-go-round on Martha's Vineyard all share a space over a bookcase. David and Peggy spent a year traveling the year after he decided that the financial world wasn't his bailiwick . A man who ran a used bookstore gave me the McGuffey page, " It's not worth much, but I know how much you love books." I took the photo of the merry-go-round.
I'll not turn around to describe all the photos and places behind me save for a missing piece. I once collected unicorns. A unicorn Elyse gave me stood on the bookcase. It's been gone for years.
I look around the room- a cup and saucer from my mother's collection, a prayer book belonging to both my parents, and mementoes from friends. David's photos and gifts and a unicorn that no longer is here.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home