After our Renegade Women Day (we changed the name for political reasons), Jan and I stopped by the cottage to pick up a trunk that I left behind when we moved out. The cottage is about the size of the t.v. we moved yesterday - big for a television, small for a house. It is also lived in by a Davis, so it wasn't that creepy that we just showed up and raided the basement.
It had been a while since I'd opened that trunk, so I wasn't quite sure what I'd find in it. I meant to wait until baby was down for his nap, and I could systematically rummage through my old belongings, but I couldn't wait. After Jan left, I dragged it up on the back porch and popped open the lid. (To be fair, here, I should tell you that this is a blue Rubbermaid trunk. But if you have been picturing an old, wooden trunk with brass bindings and a fabulous lock that needed to be sprung open, please go with that instead. It's much more in keeping with what I found inside). What did I find?
Pieces of Home.
Nestled inside were my old friends, Lambie, Cowie, and Froggy. (I wasn't a particularly creative kid.) And of course the teddy bear that my dad gave my mom when she was pregnant with me to keep her company while he was busy with the army. The poor bear didn't even get a name. But I loved it...so much that it now has no nose, and no stuffing in any of its limbs.
I also found a few of my beloved children's books: Captain Kitty - which my father can still recite verbatim, and But No Elephants. I'm told that I used to cover my eyes when we got to the page where Grandma Tildy goes apeshit over the elephant breaking through her pantry floor.
I found a box of notes from high school friends, and a box of letters from my friend Bonnie, who moved to Colorado when I was in middle school. Probably the best find was my dad's sixth grade composition book in which he stated his lifelong ambition to become a priest...on Mars, "Or if we've only gotten to the moon by then, I'll settle for that." But I won't say anymore because I think he should write about that.
In a brown cardboard box, I found my baby book, elementary school work, varsity softball letter and other artifacts from my childhood. As I sifted through the items, I realized that my mother was the one who packed them all for me when I went away to college. She had lovingly tucked them away when I was too busy or too cool to realize that someday it would mean a lot to me to see my tiny five-month-old hand outlined on blue paper, or silky my old blanket against my cheek. Everything that I love about Home - the coziness you feel in your clean pajamas after a bath, the sweetness of warm milk and honey when you can't sleep, huddling under the covers with a book (now a Kindle) after everyone else has gone to sleep - everything I want to pass on to Evan, I can thank my parents for giving to me.
"It's so beautiful!" I crooned inwardly to myself, as I set my beloved toys out for Evan to play with, and to love and to cherish, just as I did.
He preferred to play with the camera case.
Oh well. I appreciated it. Thanks mom! Thanks dad!
It had been a while since I'd opened that trunk, so I wasn't quite sure what I'd find in it. I meant to wait until baby was down for his nap, and I could systematically rummage through my old belongings, but I couldn't wait. After Jan left, I dragged it up on the back porch and popped open the lid. (To be fair, here, I should tell you that this is a blue Rubbermaid trunk. But if you have been picturing an old, wooden trunk with brass bindings and a fabulous lock that needed to be sprung open, please go with that instead. It's much more in keeping with what I found inside). What did I find?
Pieces of Home.
Nestled inside were my old friends, Lambie, Cowie, and Froggy. (I wasn't a particularly creative kid.) And of course the teddy bear that my dad gave my mom when she was pregnant with me to keep her company while he was busy with the army. The poor bear didn't even get a name. But I loved it...so much that it now has no nose, and no stuffing in any of its limbs.
I also found a few of my beloved children's books: Captain Kitty - which my father can still recite verbatim, and But No Elephants. I'm told that I used to cover my eyes when we got to the page where Grandma Tildy goes apeshit over the elephant breaking through her pantry floor.
I found a box of notes from high school friends, and a box of letters from my friend Bonnie, who moved to Colorado when I was in middle school. Probably the best find was my dad's sixth grade composition book in which he stated his lifelong ambition to become a priest...on Mars, "Or if we've only gotten to the moon by then, I'll settle for that." But I won't say anymore because I think he should write about that.
In a brown cardboard box, I found my baby book, elementary school work, varsity softball letter and other artifacts from my childhood. As I sifted through the items, I realized that my mother was the one who packed them all for me when I went away to college. She had lovingly tucked them away when I was too busy or too cool to realize that someday it would mean a lot to me to see my tiny five-month-old hand outlined on blue paper, or silky my old blanket against my cheek. Everything that I love about Home - the coziness you feel in your clean pajamas after a bath, the sweetness of warm milk and honey when you can't sleep, huddling under the covers with a book (now a Kindle) after everyone else has gone to sleep - everything I want to pass on to Evan, I can thank my parents for giving to me.
"It's so beautiful!" I crooned inwardly to myself, as I set my beloved toys out for Evan to play with, and to love and to cherish, just as I did.
He preferred to play with the camera case.
Oh well. I appreciated it. Thanks mom! Thanks dad!
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