collectors and cleaners

Cleaning out your mother’s ‘stuff’ can be a disheartening affair. Not so much because of emotions but because of the sadness of the end of our days when we are left with the detritus of lives.

I am, perhaps now, the only one who knows that that the small broken locket was given to Mum by Chris, that the tiny signet ring was hers when she was a bridesmaid and that dad gave her that bracelet. And who to tell that story to?

Mum also had several pairs of glassess, a minor mountain of purses and bags and assorted clothes and vases. She loved clothes and I love the vases and the very good 1960s bling that I can wear for tango.

But apart from that. Some memories. Some bits and pieces. Some awards that she won for sewing and a few badges (clubs she belonged to). It doesn’t seem like much, but in comparison with others it was also a rich life.

And it makes me think about the way I keep telling myself I’ll write a book about my friends’ collections. I have friends who collect books, art, ceramics, pottery, wrought iron, kete, and more art. One day, perhaps, I’ll hit the road and write that book.

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