She was there, always there, with her bright red bow. Growing up, she sat on my grandmother’s refrigerator. Fragile, but she escaped being broken…miraculously.
We had many broken jars, glass bowls, anything within reach. Spunky daughter had a knack – many close-calls, what-ifs, and almosts. Through it all, my vintage treasure remains, seventy something and no crack or chip. I’ll say it again…miraculous!
Yes, my red-bowed beauty, with the surprise in her eyes, gingerly holds her secrets.
Secrets of love in small gems of sweetness. Secrets of sneaking children and midnight cookie raids.
She’s beautiful. She’s vintage. And, she’s truly a miracle.
Memories of being in my grandmother’s kitchen, where she served up sweet tea and confections of love.
Stories included the long, gravel driveway, a country setting, and rolling Tennessee hills full of cows. Fresh milk from a big white pitcher. Porcelain-coated metal provided the coldest milk.
We hang on to the old, mostly for the memories. Many new and improved can be found as a replacement. The newest and greatest gadget to meet the need. But, you can’t buy them new with memories attached.
If you have “old and tired” family heirlooms, give them a purpose. Clean them up (the easiest DIY of all) and use them.
Enjoy them, every day.
The memories are sweet.
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