“Bless My Whiskers”

When our son left for Vietnam a few weeks ago, the bee in my bonnet woke up. Andrew doesn’t know it yet, but he’s been moved to the upper attic. I took back his room–he doesn’t know that either–and reclaimed our guestroom. So now, our second floor consists of my office/sewing room and our newly fashioned guestroom (and we’re working on the attic).

In the process of all the sorting, rearranging, and clutter dusting, I found something that took me back, way, way back. We must have been 3 and 4, my sister and I, about the time shown here.

I’m holding a mini sewing machine

I recall that the time before bed was for reading, always. Our grandma Lalla was a very willing participant. When we were very young, our parents made the trip to Tacoma from Gladstone most years, although as was the case here, our grandparents came to Oregon.

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Note the books in the photos. It’s hard to tell, but this may have been what we were reading:

kerry-kittens_nov-2016-8These are the very Christmas books my sister and I read as children (and we are pushing 60).

There is something about these books that lit my fire, probably the miniatures. I was fascinated by little things as a child. It doesn’t look like I was ready to part with that sewing machine, and the mini piano was close by. My sister loved dolls far more than I did; I was fascinated by trains, machines, and noise makers.

After all these years, the miniatures have been well preserved (I’m grateful they came in these wonderful boxes). These are the Christmas books I loved most.


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This next one, by far, was my favorite. Poochy had a spirit after my own heart: he was in trouble, always.


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Maybe it’s the miniatures, maybe not. Maybe it’s the colorful illustrations that held my attention. It could be the stories themselves. I’m guessing it’s the memories of long ago, the times with mom and grandma, that tug at my heart. Dad is no longer here to take pictures of those moments; that is my job now. I’m thankful for the gift he gave–enjoyed in this moment–when we see what he saw the moment he took these Christmas photos. I’m grateful our parents taught us to take care of our possessions, that they saved these special mementos. I’m reminded of Christmases past, my elders, and having parents and grandparents others would envy.

Cleaning and dusting can be messy, but bless my whiskers, sometimes we find a little magic.


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