
I find myself living in a house with a lot of built-in display space. Previous residences having been heavy on bare walls and light on decorative touches, this is the first time I’ve had to sooth empty shelves and glass fronted cabinets crying out to be filled.
In response to the uncomfortably naked shelves, I set about rounding up various trinkets that had been hidden in cupboards and closets for so long I was surprised to see them.
A vase here, a photo album there, and me being me, a couple of stuffed animals and I was done. Bits and pieces of a life laid out before me. A pastiche of family, and trips, and time.
Each object holds a memory, a story. Most of them G-rated except for one small glass dish, edged in blue. Entirely unexceptional unless, like me, you happen to remember the hour preceding its purchase π

One item though, doesn’t have a story.
I don’t know where it came from or when. It was just always there, a doorstop in my parent’s house. I look at it now and I wonderβ¦
But there’s no one to ask. Not any more.
That’s why it’s vital to visit the generations before us before we find ourselves next in line. I have a 92-year-old aunt who has a suitcase full of old photos. I visit her twice a month and ask her lots of questions. She’s the last of her generation. Once she’s gone, so will a lot of memories be lost too.
As for those hours preceding the purchase of that glass dish, Aimer, will they too one day be lost? Or will they live on in a book?
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Smart, Hugh, to ask the questions while your Aunt is still around to answer them. I bet she loves your visits and the chance to talk about her past. I hope you’re taking notes π
As to my own past, it will probably stay locked in that dish and our memories…or some version of it could pop up in the next book π
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That is maddening – when you have a question but no one to ask. It was like that for me after my mom died, even before I lost my dad. If you asked my dad anything he would say, “I don’t remember what I had for breakfast,” as if that somehow explained forgetting the past. I mean, I often don’t remember what I had for breakfast, but I can tell you what I wore to my first dance in sixth grade, and I can sing just about any song that I listened to between 75 and 85.
I would love those shelves. I could display all my Furbies and my gingerbread person collection.
I love Hugh’s idea of giving the glass dish story a place in your book!
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Yes, that’s just one of the many things I should have said or done when my mom was still around…
LOL! Yes, now that Hugh’s planted the idea in my head I may have to tweak that “dish episode” and slip it into my next book…
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This is a brilliantly written post, Aimer. Succinct and highly provocative!
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Thank you, Donna. I was surprised myself at what came tumbling out when I sat down to write it π
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Of all the objects displayed in my apartment, only one has a worthwhile story: a carved, wooden scarecrow bird. I saw it 40+ years ago in a shop window and laughed, because it reminded me of Ignatz Mouse from the Crazy Cat comics. At that age, it didn’t occur to me I could buy something like that just because it made me happy. The friend who was with me that day later presented me with a box that contained the carved bird. Best present I ever received.
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That’s a wonderful story, Brian. Both the gift and the person who thought to give it to you… Bet the bird still makes you smile π
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I have a thing about jugs (donβt laugh) – jugs as opposed to vases. I treasure 3. One I bought in Spain aged 16, one from France we drank wine from in a restaurant, and a Victorian farmhouse jug which belonged to my fatherβs family.
Perhaps the iron press could double as a dangerous weapon?
JP
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Jugs (the ‘I’m not laughing’ kind) are better than vases. They just seem to have more to say especially when they have a great memory behind them π
The iron press could be a weapon…if only I had better aim π
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Lovely. I imagine all the tucked away things being VERY excited to now have a spotlight. And the iron is the grand Mystery Lady that everyone is enamoured with but too intimidated to approach…so a mystery she remains….πI bet it’s looking beautiful. Happy decorating and Cheers!!! π
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I think it looks pretty good, but then most of these things mean something to me…to someone else, they’re just junk.
I’m realizing, as I help my mother-in-law pack her stuff to move, that “junk” is s relative term π
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Absolutely!!! π
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Lovely post – little details in our lives can be huge even if we donβt realize it fully. I love when people take care with where they live π
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Perhaps I’m noticing these little things more because I have friends and family who are downsizing, dealing with the question keep or not…
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