It's the little things

It’s the little things that get you.  You’ll be going along just fine, busy with your life and all it entails, when something little just reaches up and grabs you.   It happened to me last night.

I had the pleasure of supporting a local church by attending their weekly Wednesday dinner, a simple meal prepared by a church family to promote fellowship and raise funds (for missions, I think).  I went with my hubby; Adam’s godmother (Harriet); and Harriet’s neighbor (Barb), who is a member of the church.  During our meal, it came up that Barb had been wanting to show me how nicely my parents’ slipper rocker looked in her bedroom, and we made arrangements for me to drop by after the dinner.

A little background: my mom died in 2004 and my dad just passed away this last September.  As the executor (executrix?) of Dad’s estate, I was in charge of disposing of the remaining items in their apartment after the family chose the things they wanted.  We donated some things and sold everything else during an auction in Valparaiso on New Years Day.  (Yes, you read that correctly.)  Both Harriet and Barb came out to the auction, and Barb was the successful bidder on this lovely antique slipper rocker that had been in my parents’ bedroom for as long as I can remember.

Fast-forward to last night.  Harriet and I stopped over to Barb’s after dinner, and she showed us a few finds she had recently acquired.  Then she led the way back to her bedroom where the slipper rocker sat next to the window.

Just like in Mom and Dad’s bedroom.

It was perfect for the room, in style, size and color, and she was absolutely thrilled with it.  I wanted to tell her how Dad sat on it nearly every day to put on his socks and shoes, unless there was a cat already on it.  I wanted to tell her how wonderful it looked there and how its upholstery complimented her comforter.  I wanted to say how pleased I was that it had a new home with someone who loved it.  But I couldn’t say a thing.

Sometimes it’s the little things that reach out and grab you when you least expect them, and you find yourself standing in someone else’s bedroom fighting back tears you didn’t realize you still had.

Thank you for the gift of remembering, Barb.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s