This is a quilt design wall:
A resting place for memories and reminders. Reminders that go back many years. Most of them not attended to. See the “Baby Emma” cross stitch? It was made by my sister Cindi to be the label on a quilt for my first grandchild. Cindi is no longer with us and Emma will soon be 14.
There’s a reminder to do exercises after my knee surgery from 4 years ago. (Well, in case it ever acts up again!)
A reminder from the church’s Marketing Team to update the Membership section on the website. Due May 1. Oops. Deadline missed.
And the memories! “Arts and Craps” pieces from afternoons with The Littles, a photo taken in 1985 with my co-workers at Indialantic Elementary, my mom’s retirement photo made into a mini-quilt by my sister Sally, a photo of some Masai women taken in Kenya in 2000, ribbons won at quilt shows. It goes on and on.
How could I possibly throw away messages of support from dear friends?
Or this cross stitch which perfectly captures my feelings on some days:
I like to make digital photo books of our travels and special family events. I have piles and baskets full of them. The grandkids love to go through them — if it’s a book about them!
But our house and our walls are the true “memory book” of my day-to-day life. That’s why I have a problem with de-cluttering. My house IS my true memory book.
Old memories and new in one bookshelf. Ancestors and current art work.
Cookbooks. I don’t cook but all of these have long-ago memories attached. A mug from Queen Elizabeth’s Silver Jubilee in 1977. A sweet embroidered piece from a friend when I was dealing with thyroid cancer. Snapshot of the sisters.
What prompted this post? I have 3 major deadlines today and this is procrastination at it’s finest. While on hold with Constant Contact I was aimlessly wandering the house (to collect steps on my Fitbit) and realized we live in a museum. A personal museum. And this museum is the memory book of our lives. John is also a curator of this museum:
His office is his to add as he pleases. Never delete. We don’t delete.
So…to my kids — the photo books will all be yours someday to dispose of as you wish. I suspect this “living” photo book will be of no use to you. But you can take pictures of it all and save for posterity. I wish my forebears had been able to do that.
Is your home a book of memories?