Returned Treasures

I swore I wouldn’t be the bearer of trinkets and treasures and tchotchkes when I was young. I swore mostly because my Mom was indeed the bearer of ALL the things and I was the one with the compulsive urges to dust well before she had even been given the chance to do so herself. Let the record show, however she never expected me to take on these tasks. I took them completely upon myself likely around the age of 9.

This is the kind of fun I was.

I remember my cousins would bring over their random handmade treasures because my aunt was going to (appropriately?) toss them out and they knew their gems would be safe with my mom. I kid you not, that was no less than 25 years ago and I just recently saw my cousin’s royal blue  clay-thrown pot out in her garden holding a prized space, beautifully surrounded by thoughtfully positioned flowers.

I couldn’t help but grin when I realized what exactly was there and how long it had survived.

When my own grandmother was celebrating one of later-in-life birthdays, the kids and I went to grab Hallmark cards and a hamburger from her favorite local place to drive them down to her home.

I absolutely loved the drive to her house. In the town we grew up there is one road, aptly called Bayshore Dr, where so many charming homes full of character line the winding road where the bayou meets the street. It’s as if every car I’ve ever owned as a teenager and adult instinctively knew precisely where to go. It had to, because my eyes were glued out of the car window to take in every stretch of the bayou that I still to this day, call home.

The kids were thrilled because I allowed them to snag “flowers that would never fade.” You guessed it, tchotchkes. I knew then, even though this would prove to be a solid 8 years before she would pass on, that this trinket would eventually make its way inside my own home.

She was thrilled though, too. Grandma had the ability to make you believe you had really done something worthwhile…something completely unexpected and never before thought of. She also had the ability to make you feel guiltier than a sailor walking into a church on Sunday morning after a wild Saturday out, when you hadn’t returned her multiple phone calls, but nevertheless the way she smiled and ooohed and awwwed all while nodding to the children as they stood proudly next to her, sitting in her rocking chair…

Well, it’s a memory I won’t soon forget.

Of course I’m guaranteed not to forget it either as I stand here dusting silly trinkets and treasures that no one would take a second glance at Goodwill or anywhere else for that matter.,

Yet, I stand here smiling & instantly transported back, remembering how her hugs somehow entirely enveloped me despite her frame being half the size of my own.

And so it would seem, it turns out I don’t mind cleaning tchotchkes after all.