Sorting is a godlike act. Invoking and evoking.
Determining which shreds of memory remain in the queue of continued contact and which are banished netherward to oblivion.
Value and life or death granted by a casual gesture toward the shelf or the trashcan.
It was a perfect thing for me to come across today. As I've been ridding my home of excess I have been sorting into a number of baskets, bins, bags. One set of items was for things that I want to keep in my cedar chest and today I went to put them away. I pulled out a quilt my great grandmother made. I held it close and breathed in the cedar aroma. I stretched out under it on my bed and thought of the little snippets I remember about her from my early childhood. Once I was eating a scrumptious meal at her table and when I complimented her on it she replied that she was surprised I tasted it at all because I ate it so quickly. It wasn't exactly an admonishment but it has stayed with me all my life and I try to eat consciously and slowly because of that. I remember that she loved rocks and I see that in my aunt all the time. I wonder if she developed that love through time spent with her grandmother. No matter where we are she invariably finds a rock that she has to take home with her. I couldn't help but wonder what it was like to have lived my great grandmother's life, it was full of function and free of frivolity yet there was a quiet elegance about all the everyday things in her home. I folded the quilt back up and replaced it, glad to have had the memory of her evoked. As I closed the lid on the chest, Boomer, the ventriloquist dummy my son entrusted me with before he left, smiled up at me. Sweet.
Here are today's five items:
1. A tan belt with parallel rows of brads
2. A lime green belt with parralel rows of triangular spikes
3. Another pair of safety glasses
4. Another pair of sunglasses - the kind with all the rhinestones at the outer corners
5. A Pepsi-Cola truck still in the package