The pretty china. The beautiful old quilts. The crystal. It's silly to hide it in a closet, unused. But it's uncomfortable to use it, knowing that you're risking ruin in the short-run or wearing out in the long-run. So I give myself the speech as best I can: use those precious things. Enjoy the memories. Enjoy the beauty.
And then comes a week like this one. We were overwhelmed in blankets. I hauled them all out -- out of the closets, out of the storage spaces in the basement, out of the linen cupboards. I took inventory. I set aside some to donate. I set some aside to offer to the kids. I probably kept too many. And ...
and ...
I threw some away.
Let me just say, ... OUCH.
Two of these were quilts made by Grandma, for the kids, hand-sewn, hand-quilted. But they're over 20 years old. When newly made, they were constructed of old fabric scraps. These quilts were well-used and enjoyed. They decorated the bedrooms. They had to go through the washer regularly. They are not merely torn, in need of repair. They are disintegrating. It only makes sense that they've served us well and are now ready for the garbage. But I hate throwing them away.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment