Earlier this week, I introduced the latest Kuhnspiration exercise – pick an item in your household and recount the story behind it. Did you get a chance to locate your object and jot down thoughts about its personal meaning to you?
Time for me to take a crack at it myself, so I chose this little number.
I know she looks meek in appearance. She’s also a little tired and worn, but she serves a valuable purpose every day. She’s actually a bank with a slot on her back, but I haven’t used her as one for years, because the little rubber stopper at the bottom has nearly crumbled into bits with age and frankly, I don’t have much extra to store in her these days.
But my little granny bank has a very important job: looking after my watch for me. You see, when I was a little girl and we traveled back home to Chicago in the summers, we’d stay at her place during our visit, and I noticed early on that Grandma had a special routine. Each morning, she’d take her watch off of granny’s bun after she got dressed as an official start to the day and at the end of the day, return it to its little safe place high atop the other granny’s head. I never learned where she had gotten the bank or if it held any deep, personal significance for her but it seemed to be an important part of her daily routine.
When she died on Christmas Day 1990, my parents and I packed up the car and drove back to Chicago across the icy roads for her funeral, the first I had ever been to in my 20 years up until that time. I managed to make it through the wake but was so emotionally and physically upset by what to me seemed like such a creepy, bizarre experience (and still does to this day frankly) that my folks dropped me off at my Aunt Helen’s before everyone headed to the funeral. I didn’t attend or join the family for the visit afterward to Grandma’s place. When my mom asked me if there was any item of Grandma’s that I wanted to have as a keepsake, I asked for the bank and she’s been perched on my dresser ever since.
She’s seen me through college days, wedding days (two of them), separations (thankfully, just one of them), first days on the job, job interviews and other scary new beginnings. Whatever the occasion, she has always wished me well as I snatched my little watch and set off for the day. And each evening as I changed into my comfy clothes at home, I’d return my little timekeeper to her to watch over it —and me.
I didn’t have the chance to become very close with my grandma. After all, I grew up 1200 miles away and only saw her every other summer or so. When we’d visit, we’d talk and play Yahtzee together. She’d let me play “pretend” in her closet of old dresses, shoes and purses. She always looked after me if my folks had to step out while we were visiting. But though I don’t subscribe to any heavenly theories, I feel like her memory continues to look after me every day, from start to finish.
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How about you? What is the object of your affection and how has it played a role in your life or will continue to do so? Feel free to share your own story here in the comments if you’d like. I’d love to hear from you!
Cheers to finding that daily spark in your life!
Chris
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