Last week I was talking to my mom and we got on the topic of the things that never change in my family, and she said “You should write about this in your blog.”
So I am.
The large multi-colored, striped bead that “lives” in the hole in the cobbler’s bench.
The handcrafted foot stool my mom took out of a house my parents were thinking about buying when I was an infant, with the “temporary” leather straps nailed across for a seat (25+ years later, the leather straps are still there).
The heavy wooden coffee table in the family room, that I used to flip upside-down and pretend to drive it, like a car.
There are always pieces of furniture that are half-refinished and bare light bulbs without fixtures.
Appliances leveled with chunks of lumber.
My mom’s neat piles and my dad’s sprawling ones.
Dogs that throw half-eaten stuffed animals into your lap.
Guitars that are never more than a room away.
That quiet and the holding of hands will happen before a meal.
The 80+ year old oriental rug in my parents’ living room, that they bought at a garage sale in Chicago in 1975 for $200.
That someone (or more than just one) in the family is driving a early model Subaru.
And, that we love each other hugely, deeply, truly and without reservation or resistence.