Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Rock Paper Scissors

Handed Down From Who Knows Where?
There is an art form to house keeping. It is particularly important when making decisions that are clearly emotional,  like when to let things go. In the last year, I lost my mother to a sudden heart attack. She was living with my husband and me. Naturally, when she moved in, so did all of her things. Many of those things were her mother's and so on and so on. Right now, I am staring at a rock paper weight, it was found among my mother's things. I will never know why it made the move with her or where it even came from. Based on what I know about my family, I suspect her father was the creator.

And then this, what is this silly thing? I look as this and it is filled with the same sense of humor that reminds me that my family is still with me. I can look at this and imagine what my mom, grandmother or grandfather would say about its origins. Believe me it does have origins, you know, the looney kind that families share and outsiders rarely understand when those shared moments just happen to happen in public.

I was looking at my hands the other day thinking boy do I need a manicure. It was then that I realized, I was looking at my mother's hands. We had the same hands and it was comforting because even though I know I will never see her hands again, I only need to look down at my own hands to remember hers.

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