Month: August 2023

Glass from the Past

| Flower Roberts

It is time to start moving things out of mama’s house. It must be cleared and painted then sold.

My sister and I are struggling with this reality as we march toward the inevitable.

I have sorted, packed and polished.

Now it is time to wash the glass. Not fancy, expensive crystal, just lovely little objects of glass.

I am washing these by hand like my mother and grandmothers and great grandmothers did. Standing over a hot sink, hands pruned by the dish water, looking out the window.

Remembering the desserts that were in these bowls and stemmed cups… the colors of jello, the 1-2-3, the pudding and blueberry desert.

We loved the sweet and sparkle at the end of a family meal.

I will keep a set of these for making special little deserts for the children in the family just like they did.

I am honoring my past by washing glass with warm soapy water and tears.

It is time to move things here at mama’s.

FLOW

Waiting for the Last Bloom

| Flower Roberts

I have missed so much this summer. I was determined not to miss the last bloom of my precious Night Blooming Cereus. It is one of my magic plants. It reminds me there are still miracles.

I missed its first bloom several weeks ago. The second set of six bloomed Friday night. I was blessed with one last bud at the bottom of the plant. Tucked behind another spent bloom, I almost did not see it.

It turned up its neck yesterday to form a pipe-like shape. This signals it is ready to bloom.

I prepared the space for my late night visit by putting a lawn chair in the proper place. I set a flashlight by the door. Set out my camera and phone.

I quietly descended the stairs around 9:30PM. I thought that I might be a bit early, but it had all ready started to open.

I sat patiently in my chair listening to the insect orchestra accompanied by the quiet percussion of a light rain. Becoming hypnotized by the gentle swaying of this angel-white bloom in the breeze.

I was spending time with a living treasure that marks time by blooming only once each year.

I thought of the other years I had sat in the dark with this plant waiting for its miracle and wishing for other miracles. I am grateful for this green beacon in my garden. Making me pause and wait. Making me wonder. Holding me in its time and place.

There could not be a more beautiful flower.

FLOWER

A Message from a Spoon

| Flower Roberts

I am trying to make old things beautiful. I am a caregiver. I want everything at its best.

I believe the possessions of my family deserve respect. They chose these items. They bought them when money and resources were scarce. These are the things they saved and passed on. They have value in many forms, not just monetary value.

I learned this lesson from a strange, little, tarnished spoon.

There is a bowl of mismatched, silverplate, serving pieces at Mama’s house. I have been sorting and polishing all things silver and brass.

Among these utensils was a strange-shaped, blackened spoon. Its design matched nothing else in the bowl. It even had remnants of silver polish dried in its crevices.

Polishing such a faceted piece is hard work. Someone must have decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

I had to rub every bit of it multiple times to see its shine. It was like the sun emerging from a cloud.

That strange, little spoon is a gorgeous work of art. It has a P on the handle for Pearson, my great grandmother’s married name.

I spent a lot of time researching the mark of the maker; a lion on hind legs facing left, holding a snake, standing in a C.

It was made by Frank W. Smith Silver Co. of Gardner, Massachusetts. Its pattern name is Oak.

It is a treasure. I told my sister I fell in love with the spoon and must keep it. It spoke to me, you see.

Be careful while sorting and choosing what you keep. You may miss out on a tarnished treasure.

FLOW

Here but not Here

| Flower Roberts

I am home for a funeral. Another precious friend is gone. Another lonely widow is left.

Being here is important, but I am not really here.

My mind is at Mama’s house. It is slowly being dismantled.

Things are being moved and polished and researched and assessed.

We are finding little treasures and surprises. These are being set aside on the desk.

We want to be sure that our heirlooms do not get mixed in with things with no history.

I am washing Daddy’s clothes. I missed a pocket containing jelly beans and tissues and screws.

Our lives are being played backwards as we struggle to move forward.

I ask Mama about things we find, but she cannot remember much.

She was the family’s memory. Not any more.

I am here watering my neglected plants and doing laundry. No plants have died… yet.

It seems that there has been a strange shift in my values. I must be careful.

No stone will be left unturned. All drawers will be emptied. All shelves cleared. Closets opened.

I must be careful about what I choose to carry from my past into my future.

I will choose this load with caution, as I carry what is there to here.

Will home be here? Will I? Hard choices must be made. It is time to decide what should be kept.

FLOW