I just had my dining room chairs recovered. Supposedly the material is able to withstand a full-scale assault of spaghetti sauce and chocolate. Durable was my primary criteria. The chairs are from my mother’s house. I inherited the dining room; my sister took the living room set. Mom had “good” furniture, well-made and built to last forever. But I confess I didn’t like the chairs as a kid, still not crazy about them as an adult. But recovering them was lots cheaper than replacing them with new, so it was an easy decision.

In other words, despite the fact that they are from my beloved mother, the original Evelyn, I could care less if I have the chairs, buffet, and table. I have no sentimental attachment to them. On the other hand, I have a slightly chipped, green square platter that I bring out for every special occasion because I remember my mother used it constantly when I was growing up. I love that platter and I could move from our house into a one-room apartment, and the platter would come with me.

This has all been swirling around in my head since several of my friends have recently downsized. Furniture, china, silver, have all found new homes or been donated to worthy charities. Got me to thinking about sentiment, what resonates, what doesn’t.

Needless to say, every handscribbled note from my kids and husband, parents and sister, is a treasure which is tossed into an ever-increasing group of boxes marked, MEB Memorabilia. But I’m not sure why I have moved my father’s old lawbooks to each of our five houses, since the man never practiced law. Still, he moved them cross-country when he made the decision not to be an attorney, so I keep thinking if they meant something to him, I should continue to schlep them around.

When we were breaking up Mom’s apartment, my husband reminded me that none of the “stuff” was the essence of my mother. He’s right, of course. But it’s not only that I get comfort from seeing these familiar items on special occasions, but I feel like Mom, Dad, and my sister are actually with me, enjoying the moments that I know they would have cherished. So when Riley, my first granddaughter was being born, while sitting impatiently in the hospital waiting room, I would check the watch that my Dad gave my mother. It’s the equivalent of an old Timex, but on my wrist, I had the two of them with me to share the joy.

Not sure if it makes sense – and maybe sentiment doesn’t have to be rational. But this Thanksgiving, if you’re at my house, help yourself to some turkey. It’s on the green platter, of course.

Stiletto Faithful – are you sentimental? What’s your green platter equivalent?

Marian

Brianna Sullivan Mysteries – e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries- Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah- Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah- Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
A Haunting in Lottawatah – Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
Lottawatah Twister – Kindle – Nook – Smashwords

Sullivan Investigations Mystery – e-book series
Murder Off the Books Kindle – Nook – Smashwords
Riley Come Home (short story)- Kindle – Nook – Smashwords

Romances
Love Lessons – Kindle – Nook – Smashwords