“It is strange how we hold on to the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures.”
― Ally Condie
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“It is strange how we hold on to the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures.” I have traveled around the world. I've lived in many places, many houses, many rooms... gone through many different phases through the years. Now, as an adult, I find myself searching more and more for the few things in my life that have been constant through the years. My grandmother has moved only once since I was born, but there are so many objects in her home that have remained the same through my 22 years of life. These objects are some of the few things that give me a sense of 'coming home' whenever I visit her, there is a security, a familiarity. They are a rare thing... something unchanging. And I absolutely love that. Here are an assortment of trinkets that I've grown up knowing and loving as "Things In My Grandmother's House".
2 Comments
10/13/2013 09:55:13 pm
What wonderful memories! Pictures and trinkets really can give you a sense of home. Even after some of these things are gone, you will have memories that will last forever. One of my great aunts used to collect many different trinkets. Though she has since passed, my cousins and I were reminiscing about such memories of these things last week. Wonderful family times! It was fun to see some of your old family pictures too. So a man in uniform huh? I guess especially one bearing the crest of Camelot. ;-)
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Mom Manning
11/4/2013 06:34:07 am
Why am I just seeing this today? I love that you have these pictures and your post. Did you send this to grandma? It probably will make her cry. The dolphins were a gift from Uncle Dave many years ago. We all thought it was a weird gift... but she has kept them all the same. I bet she will leave them to you (unless Uncle Dave wants them) if you ask her. The Hummels are an expensive hobby. The shadowboxes were made by my Aunt Diane. She's not really my Aunt but my godmother... my mom's best childhood friend. She made one for me too.. it's in the basement. I don't remember the story of the wooden women's heads. France maybe. Thank you for sharing this sweet daughter!
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