I'm at my mom's for several days where the house has been filled with family members. It's a comfortable place where we gather for meals, spend time together, stay the night.It is also a house filled with items which are connected to memories.
My mind is continually traveling through these memories. In the kitchen I'll look to the top of the cabinets where a red tin holds cookie cutters and I remember being a child baking beside my mother as she described using these same tins with her mother.
Every room evokes memories. My mother's sewing machine sits inside the blond wood cabinet. Packed away and seldom used today, I recall all the clothing she sewed through the years. My young children giggled in delight when she would present a specially crafted outfit.
These objects retain the memory of those no longer with us. Black and white photographs of earlier generations sit atop the antique ice box used on the family farm. I picture them using this bygone appliance.
I so appreciate the people who gather here to share and spend time together. I also seem to appreciate these objects and items that cause my mind to recall. These split-second movies of rememberance I play over and over.
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