Memory lane...

My big sister died, too young, 17 years ago. She was a magnetic personality, a moth-attracting flame. Time spent with her left me with my jaws aching from smiling and laughing out loud. She collected fascinating things... arrow heads and pottery shards found on and around her land in Bowdoinham, and quirky, whimsical, antiques. At one point the sofa in her house consisted of a magnificent, vintage sleigh stuffed with pillows and soft blankets. The perfect spot to curl up with a good book.

A few weeks ago her beloved former partner contacted me. "We need to schedule a time for you to get some family stuff." I arranged to drive there last week, and Rachel wanted to join me. For some ridiculous reason, it never occurred to me that this would be an emotional trip. I was looking forward to seeing her partner again, and to visiting the magical home they shared on the water. I was quite blithe as we drove there. I was happy to see the snug house, the imposing views, and to hug my sisters love. 

We loaded our car up with the family things she had been saving for me. My heart strings tugged as I saw the familiar items. We walked over the lovely grounds and sat on the Dicy memorial bench as the sun went down. Waves of ducks lifted and sank into the wild rice growing at the waters edge. We went inside. Everything was familiar, yet different. from the last time I was there, shortly before my sister died. That had been a wonderful visit. She felt well enough to take us out on her boat, showing us where osprey and eagles nested, telling stories about adventures she had experienced in this beautiful place, and stretching my face into aching grins. We grilled steaks and tossed salad and I savored every moment with her, suspected they might be the last we shared. And they were. 

Once inside we sat at the majestic dining table.Pictures were brought out, stories were shared, questions asked and answered. My eyes leaked a little. 

When we headed home I was surprised by what an emotional experience our visit had been. Then I was astonished to realize how silly it was to have not anticipated the feelings I was awash in. 

At home we carefully unpacked the treasures I had been gifted.  Here they are: 

A marvelous fireplace screen, it's fabric fragile and threadbare in places. It is freestanding when the feet at the bottom are twisted, but now it hangs over the living room sofa. Dicy liked the image of the saucy woman canoeing. I do, too. 

This vintage, child's sleigh held me, and most likely, my siblings, and ushered us over snow and icy lakes. Somewhere there is a picture of me in it. The upholstery was red velvet then, I think. I am planning to use it for Christmas decorating, the possibilities are endless. 

This lovely fairy was originally an advertisement for Fairy Soap. It is hanging in my guest room now, and I smile every time I walk past the doorway. 

This old, wooden trencher was most likely used as a bowl to knead dough in. I remember it when it was my mothers. She used to let me use it as a cradle for my big baby doll, Susie. She would fill it with huge salads for parties and holidays.  For many years it graced the center of Dicy's huge table, filled with her partners amazing collection of vintage rolling pins. 

I feel blessed, honored and thankful to have it and the other heirlooms, under my roof, brimming with memories and a heaping portion of love and kindness.