I love thrift stores, second hand book stores, and the like. I always have. If you know me, you might assume it’s because I don’t currently have a job. You’d be wrong. I have lots of jobs, just no salary at present and nope, it’s not about money at all. Oh, the treasure to be found in such places . . . sometimes an unrecognized antique, other times a “whatzit” to be upcycled, and often treasure someone loved that found its way there one way or another . . . and my mind and heart spin off into wondering “if that piece could talk, the story it might tell” and often I find myself weaving a background for who drank coffee from that mug? Who read that book? Who curled up all cozy and listened while read to? Did it change their life? Did it plant a seed and quietly influence them many years after hearing it, when they’d long forgotten.
Memories . . . Mom had an old sewing machine that someone gave away thinking it far too old to use. It was a Singer and black with shiny gold and silver decorations and all metal parts. Many’s the dress, skirt, or top she made for me on that machine . . . up until I was older and thought handmade clothes were uncool . . . now I have reconsidered and think of the time spent making them for me and the details added to make them special . . . lace, embroidery . . .
More memories . . . seems I’ve been learning about Jesus my whole life. Many’s the story I curled up to hear before bed. Oh, then I learned to read and could get lost totally in adventures! I could imagine myself a princess, a girl detective, a world traveler, and oh so many other things . . . sometimes in my imagination I had a red race car and other times a pony to ride . . . sometimes I listened to stories of Noah, of Jesus . . . other times poems about birds, seashells, swings, and gentle breezes . . . there was always a story . . .
When it was cold, I’d snuggle up with the worn old quilt Grammy made and sip hot chocolate from a big mug. “Be careful not to spill . . . ” Mama would say. “I will” I’d reply . . . and as I snuggled and listened, I thought how much fun would it be to learn to quilt? Maybe, someday I’d be a writer and tell stories? Oh, those poems are so pretty to listen to! Maybe someday someone will read poems I write and smile?