The bots are faster anyway.”Īs I looked around at the drying eyes of my grieving family, one by one, small talk turned into realization.
You might be able to get something small for them. “He’s got a collection of mowers in the shed.” I was about to push my chair away to take a closer look when conversation erupted around me. Someone had written “1943” on the lower left corner which only intrigued me more. She couldn’t have been more than six, and her smile was directed at a very ugly doll that rested in her hands. No smiles, save for the fifth little girl who looked like my grandmother. Dressed in warm clothes, four kids stared ahead not quite sure what to make of the photographer. In all the time I had spent visiting my grandparents, I never remembered seeing this one. My eyes scanned old photographs that hung on the wall and came to rest on a scene of a large family.
And despite a very thin layer of dust, the spice rack stood at the ready for whatever recipe came along. Pots and pans of every shape, size, and color hung from racks and peeked out from crowded cabinets. A wooden hutch still held the “good” glass and dinnerware that my grandparents cherished and thought to protect. There is chaos that comes with illness and death, yet despite piles of unopened mail and neglected dishes and floors, my eyes lingered on the subtle touches that made this house a home. Especially as children grew into teenagers and time preening before the mirror was at a premium. While creative with the cramped living space, one bathroom seemed to be enough despite the hustle to get to school and work in the mornings. On the night my grandfather died, we all sat around his kitchen table and marveled at how he’d been able to raise six kids in such a tiny house. Old Teacups and Kitchen Witches by Kate Baker Theme music “Appeal to Heavens” by Alexye Nov, available from Promo DJ or his Facebook page.
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