Monday, March 20, 2017

Trying Something New

For a while...did some tinkering with a new to me template.

Like like seeing a selection, but the flipping makes me a little dizzy.
I suppose I can change back if I remember how. What do you think reader?

Pansies are my mother's favorite flower.  She had a pair of earrings a long time ago that were pansies. She set them in a piece of tissue. Somehow it and they were accidentally thrown away. She remembers and regrets that loss some 50 years later. I buy her living pansies to plant out in the spring.

Last year I found a silver and abalone shell ring under our stove.  I didn't even know it was missing from my jewelry box.

I suspect that Wisteria had been trying it on and it found its way there or  ???
I was so happy that I wore it the next day.  I was out visiting a high school with Clement, going to a coffee shop, finding a mirror in an alley, getting newspaper from a box to wrap the mirror in.  So gloves off and on all day long.  I got home and shock!  It was gone from my finger.  I called the high school and coffee shop, nothing.  So sad that after a happy reunion, it was lost again, this time forever.

A few months later I was at the gym at work, when I saw a large, handmade, silver and turquoise ring on the floor next to a treadmill.  I picked it up and turned it into the security guard in the lobby. He asked for my name and I gave it.  And then nothing.  I wondered if the owner claimed it and if she was happy to get it back. It reminded me of my loss and my sadness and attachment to my own beautiful ring.  I wonder if someone found it and if it was giving her joy. I wonder if someone found my mother's earrings and found them as special as she did. What happens to things when they slip away from us?


Palava rakkaus, pikkusydän said...

Pansies are my mother's favorite flower, too. I think they were my grandmother's favorite, too, because mom often tears up when I bring her pansies.

I often think about the fate of things, too. You know how in small antique shops and at flea markets they sell old photos? That always makes me wonder what happened to those people, why are their photos being sold. Is everyone from the family line simply gone, does anyone even know that those people even existed? When we lived in the US we often visited estate sales and they always had me thinking. All these old houses, everything being sold, and it was once someone's home, with someone's dearest, most important possessions.

Palava rakkaus, pikkusydän said...

Oh, I forgot to comment on the template: it is different! I am so used to scrolling from post to post, like if a blog were a ledger of sorts. I think I prefer the old format, but I could get used to this one, too. :)

tess said...

Yes, finding old photos, I always wonder if there was no one left who cared or remembered or no one left at all, and which is sadder. Once I returned to an estate sale. The deceased couple left their house to friends. Their wedding photos, high school graduation pictures on display with everything else. I was angry that the friends didn't want to keep these mementos. The estate company seller asked if I knew the couple since she could see I was drawn to the pictures and gave them to me. I had them on display at my office at work for a long time until we moved.

tess said...

Thank you, this one reminds me of an illustrated Chinese restaurant menu.

Jessica@CapeofDreams said...

It's interesting how some losses stay with us forever.

tess said...

Like tomato sauce on a white blouse.

Lori said...

Sometimes it is so obvious that things don't actually belong to us, as we seem to think. The world does not belong to us. Such a difficult concept to grasp but very freeing. I have such a possesive nature, every small loss is a torture. I am trying to train myself to be more detached from things, but it's not always working.

tess said...

As the oldest daughter of the oldest daughter, I was brought up to feel responsible for just about everything. Yes, very difficult to detach or give up (the illusion) of control.