At this point, I’ve known my husband and his family for most of my life. Yesterday, though, I met a side of one of his grandmother’s that I’ve never known before.
She’s downsizing to a small apartment, which means that the vast majority of her furniture and trinkets are being divvied out now. Usually, a trip to her home is marked by the typical offerings of refreshments (which I’m used to with my Italian grandmother who must only be visited on an empty stomach) and casual conversation. Unfortunately, she’s never been particularly close to my husband’s nuclear family, so it’s never more than casual chitchat.
Yesterday, I was invited to look through her things for anything that we would want to keep. But instead of gathering a few antiques for my china cabinet, I met a different side of her.
Every piece of china that I touched had a story behind it. That pitcher was a wedding present from her parents. That serving dish belonged to another relative’s grandmother. That mirror hung in the entryway of her home when her children were little… and she just wasn’t quite sure that she could part with it yet.
With every short story and musing smile, I finally saw the person I’d been hoping to meet for these past six years. And that person was more like me than I ever had imagined. She’s always been a lover of collecting things, too. If there’s sentimental value to it, if it belonged to a relative, if it smells like years gone by, then she treasured it. And she knew that I would treasure those things too.
Here are my favorites:
But my absolute favorite thing from yesterday is knowing more about her.