I have a vase that belonged to my mother. There is nothing particularly special about the vase, except that it belonged to her. It's kind of a nondescript green color with 1950's styling.
After my mother’s death in 1997, my siblings and I sorted through her belongings and each took a few small mementos. I ended up with the vase. I remember mom cutting flowers from her garden and filling the vase with tulips or roses or lilies of the valley. She loved flowers and spent a lot of time out in the garden. It offered her a brief respite from raising five children and running a busy household.
Now I have the vase and use it quite often, filling it with hydrangeas or fresh cut flowers from the market. I think of her every time I pull it off the shelf like I did yesterday.
Yesterday was my birthday. My mother gave birth to me in 1953. I received flowers as a gift so it gave me the perfect opportunity to use the vase.
It’s the little things in life, isn’t it? The things that connect the past to the present, that keep us rooted to the ground - the things that keep memories alive and allow us to create new memories using old objects – objects like an old vase that will be cherished always.
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