The tacky, plastic decoration must have sat out at least one year. It is faded, no doubt, from the sun that shone through the bay window in the terrace kitchen. I can almost picture it there. After all, it was meant to sit where light would shine through it, the now dull colors ever translucent.
I remember buying it for them. Choosing a gift for my grandparents from dozens of others laid out on tables set up on the school stage. The heavy, burgundy curtains closed to protect the integrity of our workshop. I bought my other grandmother a hat pin that year. Not a pin for a hat, but a pin in the shape of one. It was blue.
This gift is blue, too, a cool backdrop for faux-glass Santa. I wonder if that influenced my choice. Based on my cursive on the enclosed tag (they saved the tag - oh my heart) I was probably 8 or 9, maybe 10. I doubt color alone could have swayed my purse. Perhaps I pictured their window as I do now and knew they would have just the place. Maybe not.
Mom says it should be mine. I gave it to them and now they are gone, from the house at least. Pop lives in a tiny apartment now and has not gotten this stuff out in years, anyway. I don't want it, but I don't want to get rid of it either. It wouldn't feel right. I should just recycle it and let it give back after doing nothing for years in a box. It's too junky to donate, I think.
It's message is nice if not a bit redundant. The panel next to St. Nick reads, "May the joy and happiness of the season be with you." Joy. And happiness. Wishing you profound and superficial emotions this holiday. That feels right.
Maybe I do keep it. Or maybe I just keep the note with my script. I can't decide. The last thing I need is another thing.
But here is the real gift: returning it to its original box to put the decision aside, I get a whiff of the terrace kitchen.
I am keeping it. The whole ridiculous thing. It smells exactly like them. And that makes me happy.
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My aunt saved every silly thing I ever made for her...notes and all... I have them now. They don't say anything to me about myself but speak volumes about her.
ReplyDeleteI love when you can smell a memory. It's the coolest thing ever, and instantly brings you back to wherever you were.
ReplyDeleteglad you kept. it may be just a thing but a thing of someone we loved is a special thing.
ReplyDeleteSometimes the sentiment attached to the object is far more important than the thing itself. I get that. I also got why you chose to keep it. I have a birthday card given by my uncle, when I turned 16. He passed away seven years ago and I still hold on to it.
ReplyDeleteWe went through our fair share of these emotions (and junk) while cleaning out my grandma's home after she died. Some things you just can't get rid of.
ReplyDeleteA lovely write - I love how scent brings back memory...
ReplyDeleteThat's wonderful, Kristin. At some point, they are only present in our memories...and anything that helps us remember, helps us keep their presence with us, if only for a moment longer.
ReplyDeleteI love that this comes back to the terrace kitchen. A lovely write. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteNothing stronger than a scent to stir up memories and how sweet this one smelled....
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! I love how you captured the complex emotions, the back-and-forth, involved with passed on trinkets.
ReplyDeleteI think keeping it is really special. I love the things that come from people we love the most.
ReplyDeleteLovely memories and so well said. Thanks. Wish I'd actually known my grandparents, but now I am one.
ReplyDeleteSo glad you decided to keep it. Some things just can't be replaced.
ReplyDeleteLove that they saved the note that you wrote to go with it. Deciding what to keep and what to return to the abyss is difficult without memory-inducing scent.
ReplyDelete