posted on February 8, 2016
posted on February 4, 2016
posted on February 2, 2016
The two candle holders in front, the crystal and the leaf-windowed cup, were my mother’s, as was the rhinestone-decked lion. This last was a ‘toy’ she had had for years. As a child I was allowed to look but not touch. “It’s not a children’s toy,” she would say. “It’s a grown-up toy.”
Sometimes I think I have spent all my life learning the difference. My mother died in late October last, ten days after we had a nice long chat on the phone. She was making supper. I told her we’d bought a truck, but forgot to mention the fire hall thing. I thought I’d tell her about that next time, but there was no next time. There never will be. It’s too bad; it would have delighted her at least as much as the truck did.
posted on January 9, 2016