A small package wrapped in tape that was almost impenetrable arrived at our door today. It almost took a stick of dynamite to extradite its contents. But I’m glad we persevered.
It was from my cousin, Kathy, my aunt’s only daughter who has been involved in the dissolution of her parents’ lives, possessions, and memories. We don’t talk that often, but I’m always glad when we connect.
This package was from her, and it contained several items of special import. But there were two that were particularly meaningful for different reasons. The first was a simple rock, except it was painted in 1913 by my grandmother on her graduation from high school. I don’t know how it came into my aunt’s possession, but I do remember Kathy asking me a few weeks ago if I wanted it. Since I’m a gardener I said “Yes,” but I’m not sure I’ll put it in my garden. Perhaps a place of honor in our home would be more appropriate.
The other item, which I didn’t expect, was a crocheted scarf that was used as stuffing around the other things in the package. It was only after I’d removed all of them and began pulling out the yarn that I realized it was the scarf I’d made my Aunt Alice about a dozen years ago as a Christmas gift. Given how I felt – no, how I still feel – about this person – it was emotional to have it back in my possession.
I remember making it. I’d started the pattern somewhere in an autumn when we were still driving to Denver, Colorado, and my aunt’s family for Thanksgiving. But I would never have finished it in time if Earl hadn’t driven all the way while I crocheted in the seat next to him. For the record, the final ripply row of the scarf had 3,000 stitches.
Alice was tall, and I made the scarf accordingly. When I took it out of the box and tried it on my short frame, I was swallowed in it. Still, I plan to wear it and make it look good somehow. If not, then I’ll treasure it as another reminder of Alice, the stellar family member in my growing-up life.
Thank you so much, Kathy.
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