We made another run to storage this afternoon, with the truck, and brought home another 40 boxes of books, author’s papers and clothes. I did not recall just how many boxes of books I packed… This makes 64, not including about a dozen boxes of periodicals. The periodicals are mags my folks were charter subscribers to like Native American Art, and Apiture.
We also brought home the last of my folk’s clothes. A large wardrobe box full. Some of these items belonged to one of my mom’s authors. Once beautiful heavy-weight linen trousers and jackets. There is a sweater I think my step-daughter will like. I had packed a box of another author’s papers along with mom’s old Coach purses and authentic moccasins. There’s a small hole in one of the soles. A good cobbler could repair it. A silver button is missing, and I’m pretty sure I have the button in mom’s sewing basket.
I was able to reunite a mortar with its pestle this morning! They were a fixture of my childhood. I’ve treasured bringing mom and dad’s things back together. Whether the items were separated by houses, or apartment, or mom’s fading ability to recall where she’d put things… It feels good to glance skyward and say, “Hey mom, here it is! The book we couldn’t find, the pestle for the mortar, the button for the shoe, the watch that went missing. Everything is here to be found. I’ll take care of these things, putting them together. You relax, enjoy, have fun with dad.
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