One thing that we could always depend on growing up was my mom setting up a pretty home. Whatever house we ended up in, she always made sure that we had lovely things surrounding us. In the scheme of things, I think that is what made all the moves a little bit easier on us kids. We always had the familiar family furniture passed down from my great grandmother, pretty dishes, and things that really made our house a home. Where ever we ended up, we were still home.
All these pretty little things that I've now collected over the years have become a part of our home. They have history. Gifts that friends have given. Family heirlooms, which are especially special to me since we are so far from extended family and friends, settle in on shelves and around the house. It's nothing extravagant, but something here and there to remind us that "we're home".
Above my bed I have a crucifix that my grandmother gave me. As anyone who knew her would tell you, she was quite the character. You "minded" grandma. When she said "Warsh your hands!", you ran and did it! If she told you to be quiet during Jeopardy or Murder She Wrote, you were quiet. Despite her harshness, she had her tender moments. Looking up at that crucifix now I can look back on that time in my life growing up with fondness and miss her. Yes, even those harsh moments.
All those little things bring back memories or some memory of love that has been in my life and though they are just things and will pass away, I'm grateful for the memories that they hold. The stories that they contain I can pass on to my own children.
Is there something special that you keep, even though it might be old and broken, or faded and worn?