Dancing in the light of the dawn

There was a silhouette of a man standing on the cliffs looking out to sea. It was cold, and still, as the early morning light started to reveal the world. The man started along the cliff-top path…

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Do the Things You Own Tell a Story of Those You Love?

My daughter’s room holds treasures from the women before me.

It’s a reoccurring question I get asked almost nightly by my kids.

Some nights I whole-heartedly want to sink into the sheets with them and cuddle.

Other nights I’m ready to go to my bed and enjoy the downtime I finally have to myself.

This time with them is to be treasured. My old self would tell me this too.

So last night I said yes to my daughter when she looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes and asked.

Lying next to her while she watched the ending of a cartoon on her fire tablet, I stayed awake with my eyes wide open taking in all the objects in her room.

I realized at that moment that many of the women in my life were taking residence in her room as well.

The dresser of the only grandma I remember sits off to the right. Almost a decade ago it sat in her own bedroom with a tiny picture of my grandfather in the corner. She refinished it herself in a lighter oak stain, and one of her plastic beaded necklaces hangs from the corner of the mirror.

On the other side of my daughter’s room are the Little Golden books of my childhood propped on a bookcase. Inside the covers is my mother’s handwriting of my name. A thick red book of bedtime stories lays flat on the top shelf that was given to me by my other grandma who died when I was two.

My daughter’s bed is a gift from my aunt. It’s made of white rod iron that my daughter affectionately calls her “princess bed.” Covering us is the quilt my dad’s mother made adorned with pink borders of flowers and detailed french knots. My fingers touch the knots over and over again thinking about how the fingers of my grandma were once there too.

Maybe you have things too that tell the story of those you love.

It could be in a piece of furniture or a hand-sewn quilt. Or perhaps it’s a picture or a hand-written letter.

As much as I try to refrain from getting too sentimental over things, I can’t help but feel lucky with…

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