The spoons hanging in the ornate rack on the wall, by the door, are glistening. Freshly polished silver is pretty, but somehow predictable. These have been a little lost, temporarily forgotten and it’s reflected in this color that time has brought to them. They are hanging, now in a place of honor, waiting for a gentle hand to select them--maybe for the perfect flowers cast on their handle or the perfectly odd shape to their bowl. Just below them hang two cross stitched silhouettes. The black thread compliments the aged tea-stained fabric upon which each tiny stitch was placed precisely. I wonder what the domestic artist was thinking each time she pressed her needle through the fabric. Was she waiting for the bread dough to rise, were the children napping, was she whispering a silent prayer for her sweet heart?
On the table below a perky “Skipper” doll case greets each person who passes by with a cheeky little nod. Barbie’s little sister, you know. The banana-yellow case with fab pink artwork captured the attention of many a girl. The little chrome latch snaps gently to the right and inside a plethora of treasures. Clothes, shoes, sunglasses, even roller skates and the tiniest little comb!
All of these tiny details somehow speak to me. Not literally, I haven’t totally lost it! But as I pause and glance across the room, gentle remembrances give way to the hurried pace of my life. I am reminded to slow down, enjoy the moment. The color of the light, the sweet scent in the air and the warmth of the hand touching mine.
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