The older I get, the more I savor the past.
It’s not specifically the whirlwind and mind-boggling speed with which time tears past, but more about the disappearance of things beloved.
My house, designed & built from my and my children’s imaginations, is filled with talismans of all of our childhoods.
If you popped by our little family museum, you’d spy imported, brightly painted Italian wooden toys sitting shelf-side near a manual typewriter & dachsund-shaped porcelain pillbox, just a step from a twig island-made table stuffed with vintage decks of cards, their various bold typography a lesson in 20th century design.
Just behind the retro 70s turntable & stacks of albums is a pull-down schoolhouse map that is pocked with color-coded stickers: our road trip travels documented via post it.
My coffee brewed magically in a nifty Italian-designed steaming device, a nod to a new treasure to add to our trove, and I’m up soon to cut a slice of Lily’s Jewish Coffee Cake, served on one of my beloved French drinks plates.
Lugged around for decades, and eyes by my three travel-sated-yet-hungry-for-more children, I see reminders of how I’ve indeed done my job.
These talismans are foundlings from other times. Other lands.
Visually arresting against the sleek Apple iOS must-haves of our modern goings on, we still harken to slow down a beat, happily & respectfully, to pay homage to the trinkets that time forgot.
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