This trunk has been a part of my life since my Grandmother died in 1977. It kept stuffed animals in it when I was a little girl, magazines when I was a teenager and was repurposed many times as an adult in different rooms in my home. I used it for throw pillows & had a basket for shoes in it at one time & really liked this display with plants that I put together a few years ago. It's been a part of the backdrop of my life for as long as I can remember, and now it's gone. I sold it to a man who plans to give it to a friend in Texas who restores this type of old steamer trunk.
After I sold it, I thought that maybe the trunk would find its way back to me again someday after it had been restored. It was a comforting thought to have as I watch the man load it into his car, but I also knew letting it go was the right thing for me right now.
I was only 7 when my Grandmother died, but I have many lovely memories of her and know that she would have supported my decision to sell her trunk & would be championing my decision to follow my dream to Santa Fe. I think of her often as I write about this journey. Memories of sitting on the swing on her front porch & looking out the stained glass windows on the wall of her staircase. I can still see the white, chenille bedspread on the bed in the room at the top of the stairs & loved it when she asked me to get her a bobby pin from the Pond's cold cream jar on her vanity. I remember her ceramic cookie jar & stainless steel toaster that held 4 slices of bread & the way the well water tasted against her rainbow colored metal drinking glasses. And any time I smell Cream of Wheat, I feel my self pulled back in tie to her warm kitchen on cold winter mornings.
Every spring when the peonies bloom I think of her because her house was surrounded by beds of flowers. She was an avid gardener and I still have pictures of her Garden Club entries. I also vividly remember picking peonies from her garden to place on her grave on Memorial Day after she died.
My fondest memory though is the year I got Betsy Wetsy for Christmas. I was 4 1/2 years old and all I could think of on the drive from our house in Missouri to her house in Iowa was showing Grandma my new doll. This is the picture from that day & I'm so grateful that her love for me was captured in this Polaroid moment. I wish I'd had more time with her and that my first lesson about death wasn't her death. She is always with me though and I've felt her presence throughout my life as my guardian angel.
Her name was Theda Ostie Hinds. She was born on September 19, 1895 and married John Wesley Baker on July 24, 1914. They raised raised 8 children to adulthood and buried several infants and a 9 year old son. My father was her youngest son and she died on December 11, 1976 but her memory lives on in me. I am Theda Baker's Granddaughter.
No comments:
Post a Comment