DON'T TOUCH THE CHIHULY
I’m wearing my great-grandmother’s wedding ring. It fits, which is strange because I have paws, not hands. My birth father was a construction worker and I always believed I inherited his hands.
She must have been a big woman.
It’s simple, not fancy, no diamonds, a silver, thin band.
I’m wearing it with my wedding ring.
I hung an embroidered picture of goldfish in Ben’s room.
That was in Grandma’s bathroom! He said.
Yes, and she wanted you to have it. She thought of you when she looked at it.
Cool! And he turned to go tell his brothers and I grabbed him.
Wait. Don’t brag. Please. She was old, sick and didn’t pick out something for Zach and Jake.
He stopped. He seemed to understand. He always had a special relationship with my mother.
I am unwrapping my mother’s wedding china. I cannot wait to have a dinner party with it, served on her dining room table, soon to be shipped. The silverware, all pieces wedding presents except for the few forks she replaced in the 1970’s because we had taken them outside and the spoons chewed by the garbage disposal. The 1930’s era gold-rimmed glasses are lined up on the table, waiting to be washed for the first time since I left home.
I was always the one to wash them.
Use them.
A three-tiered penguin box is by the fireplace.
The boys saw it and immediately opened each layer. Grandma always had the penguin in the kitchen and it was always full of such strange things.
We have Grandma’s stuff now, Zach noted as I plugged in a new lamp in the backroom.
Yes.
Huh. He seemed to be taking in, again, that she was dead.
Gone.
But in his living room.
Dining room.
The large wooden swan decoy they would try to ride.
My mother is with me.
And… it feels good.
I’m surprised.
A little.
Jeanine helped me unload the van on Sunday morning and was bubbling about the chance to replace a worn rug.
I started to cry. THIS IS REALLY HARD OKAY? IT’S NOT ABOUT A FUCKING WORN RUG!
It was unfair to yell at her. I go between being thrilled with having the things here and realizing why they are here.
My mother is dead.
My whole life flipped upside down. I have my mother’s china. Her art. The silver I polished as a child. The ancient Chinese temple carvings she brought back from her trip to China.
The Chihuly.
The kids asked what THAT THING was.
A Chihuly.
They found the name very funny.
Yeah, yeah, but you know what?
They all waited for me.
DON’T TOUCH THE CHIHULY!
And in two days, it has become a catch phase for silly moments, fun moments. In goofy voices, we all shout, DON’T TOUCH THE CHIHULY!
It’s going to be okay.
I’m wearing her grandmother’s wedding ring.
The best of her is with me right now.
She must have been a big woman.
It’s simple, not fancy, no diamonds, a silver, thin band.
I’m wearing it with my wedding ring.
I hung an embroidered picture of goldfish in Ben’s room.
That was in Grandma’s bathroom! He said.
Yes, and she wanted you to have it. She thought of you when she looked at it.
Cool! And he turned to go tell his brothers and I grabbed him.
Wait. Don’t brag. Please. She was old, sick and didn’t pick out something for Zach and Jake.
He stopped. He seemed to understand. He always had a special relationship with my mother.
I am unwrapping my mother’s wedding china. I cannot wait to have a dinner party with it, served on her dining room table, soon to be shipped. The silverware, all pieces wedding presents except for the few forks she replaced in the 1970’s because we had taken them outside and the spoons chewed by the garbage disposal. The 1930’s era gold-rimmed glasses are lined up on the table, waiting to be washed for the first time since I left home.
I was always the one to wash them.
Use them.
A three-tiered penguin box is by the fireplace.
The boys saw it and immediately opened each layer. Grandma always had the penguin in the kitchen and it was always full of such strange things.
We have Grandma’s stuff now, Zach noted as I plugged in a new lamp in the backroom.
Yes.
Huh. He seemed to be taking in, again, that she was dead.
Gone.
But in his living room.
Dining room.
The large wooden swan decoy they would try to ride.
My mother is with me.
And… it feels good.
I’m surprised.
A little.
Jeanine helped me unload the van on Sunday morning and was bubbling about the chance to replace a worn rug.
I started to cry. THIS IS REALLY HARD OKAY? IT’S NOT ABOUT A FUCKING WORN RUG!
It was unfair to yell at her. I go between being thrilled with having the things here and realizing why they are here.
My mother is dead.
My whole life flipped upside down. I have my mother’s china. Her art. The silver I polished as a child. The ancient Chinese temple carvings she brought back from her trip to China.
The Chihuly.
The kids asked what THAT THING was.
A Chihuly.
They found the name very funny.
Yeah, yeah, but you know what?
They all waited for me.
DON’T TOUCH THE CHIHULY!
And in two days, it has become a catch phase for silly moments, fun moments. In goofy voices, we all shout, DON’T TOUCH THE CHIHULY!
It’s going to be okay.
I’m wearing her grandmother’s wedding ring.
The best of her is with me right now.
posted by Sara at 6:23 PM
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