Amidst all the chaos that is my life at the moment, I find myself dreaming of lazy Sunday afternoons where I can pack up a wicker basket, hit the open road, and find an inviting field. I want to spend the entire afternoon sitting in a summer skirt, drinking lemonade, and staring at the sky.
One of the things I wanted to do before we moved away for the year was to visit my Grandma's house. She has been in the house for nearly fifty years and most of them completely independent and self-sufficient. Did I mention she is 89 years old? I only wish I have half the stamina she does when I'm her age.
My Grandma may be moving to a semi-assisted living facility in the next few months and I wanted to visit her in the home that we've spent many Christmases and Easters and dance competition weekends in. We packed our bags, turned on the radio and went on our little weekend road trip.
As soon as we walked in the door it felt like home; almost a time capsule of sorts but with a few little modifications here and there. As always, she put the kettle on when we arrived and had a few nibblies for us that she had baked the night before.
I wanted to take a few photos of things that I identified as inherently 'Grandma'. I wanted to pause and appreciate the little touches made over the decades, intentional or not, that made her house the home we will always love and remember. I'm sure that everyone has their own set of stories or memories about the family home. These were a few things that I captured that day.
Lined atop the windowsill in my Grandma's kitchen are a treasure trove of trinkets and ornaments. I always thought this guy was a cute companion while up the washing the dishes or looking out at the bird bath.
'H' or 'Hot'? Which faucet to turn on?
I'll always remember the sound of the latch in the bathroom door. Also, how fun are the turquoise tiles?
My Grandma is an avid reader. She claims she can go through an entire novel in one sitting. Of course, her definition of reading is more what we might call 'skimming'. Haha. Above the bookshelf is a shadow box my dad made to display some of my Great Grandma's mementos. I never had the privilege to meet her in person but I've only ever heard positive things.
A family piano from the 1930's, also belonged to my Great Grandma. I loved playing on it as a kid but remember getting heck if I banged the keys too hard. Wonder if I can still remember which key was out of tune?
More books from her personal collection.
I love the seashell necklaces wrapped around the coffee pot. I couldn't imagine using something so fancy to serve coffee in, unless important guests were over I suppose.
The amazing 'octopus' furnace that keeps on chugging nearly 100 years on. I can picture the dog curling up in front of these registers at night. I also love the wide baseboards and floorboards.
One of many chest of drawers that were always fun to explore. You could find anything from a 1950's bathing suit to a 1970's baseball tee.
So after snapping away photos we spent the rest of the day sipping tea, playing the piano and discussing our excitement for the future. There is always something grounding about visiting the family home and I'm very grateful that we had the opportunity to do so.
Love you Grandma! Can't wait to see you again some time soon!
This week is my last week of work before the big move out east. Although I know rationally in my head that ‘this is it’, I don’t think I’ve quite allowed myself to believe it quite yet.
My morning routine usually consists of me (begrudgingly) getting out of bed, showering, brushing my teeth, washing my face, drying/styling my hair, and applying the necessary lotion and makeup that is required to make me look mostly presentable in the professional workplace. I gather my belongings, pack a breakfast and head to the office.
I’m not necessarily singing with the birds as I stroll to work, but I do enjoy getting out with the hustle and bustle of morning commuters. As much as I’d love to lounge on the couch in my robe sipping coffee for the first few hours of my day, there is something that feels good about walking amongst the crowded streets and skyscrapers while sidestepping the constant stream of cyclists weaving their way through the already congested streets.
I feel like I have a purpose, I feel like I matter, and I feel like this is how it will always be for me.
But after this week, I no longer have to wake up to an alarm. I won’t have to make sure what I’m wearing is properly pressed or accessorized. I can eat my breakfast at home and take a few minutes to read the news online. My day won’t be dictated by meetings and deadlines and last minute projects that my manager throws on my desk at 4pm.
At first, this new routine sounds like a real dream to me. But I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to miss my old life. Am I ever going to being part of the downtown corporate crowd making my way through the sun, rain, snow, darkness trying to get to work on time? Will I ever have to run between those two blocks to ensure I catch the light before it turns red? Will I ever have to dodge those people in white t-shirts standing at every corner of the intersection trying to get me to sign up for the latest gadget they have to offer?
Perhaps yes and perhaps no. I guess I’ll just make an effort to enjoy next few days of professional life while I they last.
Anyone who has had to pack up an entire household knows how hectic things can be. As a kid, I would have loved the chance to navigate my way around a maze of boxes but nowadays I just get stressed out because it really bothers me when my surroundings are visually cluttered.
Imagine my delight when the company I work for decided to move me to a new office a mere two weeks before my last scheduled day of work. More boxes? Seriously?
Maybe cardboard-chic is going to be all the rage this summer.