Keepers

My mother even ironed Christmas ribbons - They were rayon then. I grew up in the Forties and Fifties with a practical parent --My Mother, God love her, who ironed Christmas wrapping paper and reused it and who washed aluminum foil after she cooked in it, then reused it. She was  the original recycle queen, before they had a name for it.

It was the time for fixing things -- A curtain rod, the kitchen radio, screen door, the oven door, the hem in a dress. Things we keep. It was a way of life, and sometimes it made me crazy. All that re-fixing, reheating, renewing, I wanted just once to be wasteful. Waste meant affluence. Throwing things away meant you knew there'd always be more.

But then my Mother died, And I sat in my kitchen that Sunday afternoon reading her old handmade cookbook in a binder, I was struck with the pain of feeling all alone, learning that sometimes there isn't any 'more.'

Sometimes, what we care about most gets all used up and goes away...never to return.

So, while we have it, it's best we love it....and care for it. And fix it when it's broken. And heal it when it's sick.

This is true for marriage and old cars and children with bad report cards, And dogs with bad hips, And aging parents and grandparents.

We keep them because they are worth it, because we are worth it.

Some things we keep. Like a best friend that moved away --Or--A classmate we grew up with. These are just some things that make life important - Like people we know who are special. And so, we keep them close!

I received this from someone who thinks I am a 'Keeper' So I've sent it to the people I think of in the same way.

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Courtesy of Claire