Hanging in my daughter’s laundry room is the painting above. Some might think it is cute and give it little thought beyond that. I saw so much more because I share her memories. The pink outlined fabric in the front of the basket was immediately identified as Eliza’s baby blanket. She carried it everywhere and still has it in her bed at night.
The light purple cloth with dark purple band is Jodi’s binky. I suppose it earned that name because that is how she pronounced blanket as a toddler. We all knew her binky had to be near to console tears and spark contentment at a moment’s notice. Piled on the top of the clothes on the right side, I recognize the dark green shirt as Jo’s softball jersey. Even though she isn’t playing this fall, it still remains a favorite. A part of her will forever be a Dirtdog.
The small piece of camo is a reminder of Kari’s husband’s days in the Navy. A time of youth, pride and commitment to a cause.
The idiom “clothes make the man” reminds us that our clothes identify who we are and what is important. But it is not just the clothes but the fabrics of our life that define us. And it is not only the man but people of all ages and any gender who are defined by the material in their lives. People are perceived differently depending upon the colors they wear, their makeup, and the shades that surround them.
I love this picture of laundry because it sparks memories of cherished moments. I understand why she painted it and why it hangs in her home.
In my environment, I surround myself with memories. On the wall above my writing desk hangs a collage of pictures of family. They serve as a constant reminder of happy times: winter days playing in the snow, fall football games, moments with people who are no longer alive, times we laughed with others and times we laughed at nothing at all simply because we were together.
I intentionally place the photos where they constantly bring me joy and remind me of happy moments. It seems we print photos less than we once did because they are available on our phones, pads, or computers. Sometimes I wonder if we are losing touch with our past by not hanging these memories so they provide constant reminders.
Throughout my home are items that help me remember what is important but it is the coffee cups that spark daily memories.
There is very little I do in the morning before the first cup of coffee; however, picking the best cup to savor the flavor is on the top of my list. Some people labor the decision of where to get their coffee, what kind, or how to flavor it. I spend more time choosing the container. Sometimes my cup of choice sends a message to others but usually, it simply provides comfort to me.
When I graduated from high school in 1980, my boyfriend made me a pair of ceramic giraffes. We had only been dating a brief time but as the bond of our relationship grew and when he became my husband, the giraffe symbolized our love. Some couples have a song; we have an animal.
I discovered this cup in the dollar store which makes it all the better because I love a good deal. Thankfully, I bought 6. Now after 43 years, this is the only one left but one of my favorites. Its size holds enough coffee to kickstart the morning and the large opening provides just the right amount of air to cool the fluid to a comfortable temperature.
When I worked in public education, there were days I was surprised I didn’t throw my mug across the room. My chosen career may be the most satisfying job in the world, but it can also be one of the most frustrating. My favorite book, Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand enlightened me that the mind holds knowledge and values and the absence of either is the root of all evil.
This cup, covered with quotes from the book centered me and soothed my rattled nerves when the people around me chose not to use their knowledge to make sound decisions. The words reminded me of two mantras, “It all pays the same” and “You can’t fix stupid.” I found comfort in the constant reminder that a job is only what I do and not who I am.
When I retired, a friend gifted me this cup. I must admit, my first drink from it was not coffee because I was celebrating. However, on cold mornings when in a whimsical mood, it is my cup of choice.
At this point, you, my reader, probably think I have lost focus. You are wondering how we moved from memories to coffee cups. But in reality this article is a suggestion to surround yourself with items that prompt you to remember what is important. Saturate your present with memories of the past.
Look around at your environment. What items hold memories? What do you remember that brings a smile to your face?
Love it! I remember cozying up in a quilt made by my grandma and remembering where each scrap came from :)