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 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| April 14th Prompt by Carol St. Ann (881) 4/14 Staying at Home: Storytime Which items in your home have a story of how they came to be there. Carol St. Ann Everything in my home has a story. Some are adoption tales, some are creation stories, some were bestowed as gifts, and some just fell into our laps. Imagine if they could all speak, in various pitched voices, and all at once. After my Mom-in-law's death, I inherited her buffet and hutch, a large piece of pine furniture. It happened to be one of the first bits she purchased when she emigrated to Canada from England. In her home, it had pride of ownership. She loved to entertain and this hutch displayed her collection of china brought out for guests. At one time, it matched with a large table and a set of eight chairs. These items were whisked away, purloined, stolen from a moving truck one afternoon during a relocation. Now, this aged hutch is in need of some reconditioning. The doors are booby-trapped to separate from their frames and smash the innocent feet of those not careful to stand back when attempting to open them. With a little finesse and finagling, the doors can be pushed back into their safer closed position. I've often considered hiring a cabinet maker, or a carpenter to repair this heirloom, but I am familiar with its charming quirks. My eldest is a creative genius . She creates many things, clothing, quilts, stuffed toys, upholstery, draperies. Her handiwork is evident everywhere in my home. When she first expressed an interest in sewing as a child, I would browse rummage sales and purchase the fur linings of coats for her. With the sewing machine that once belonged to her paternal grandmother, Carrie fashioned furry bears and rabbits. Most of them earned her a bit of money and a reputation as a seamstress. As her skill improved, Carrie branched out into creating jackets and quilts. I enjoy a vast outerwear wardrobe thanks to her. During our long ago honeymoon, my hubby and I purchased street art from different painters hawking their wares in Montreal and Quebec City. We had them professionally matted and framed. They have accompanied us on each of our relocations and they hang in our home today. One we especially love is a rendering in shades of grey of a pair of owls. Perhaps it represents the two of us. It does conjure up memories of being eager to start a life together and agreeing to part with what little funds we had to ensure our home would reflect our love of art. Now, if I had unlimited time and an inclination to do so, I would write of all the photos that occupy wall space in my home. They each have a story. |
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