My mom had me when she was 40 years old, and I was the youngest of 5. My folks were amazing parents to me, but I appreciate it was because they had tested all the parenting methods on my older brothers and sisters and by the time they got to me they knew just what to do; love me. I always realized my folks were a bit older than most of my friends parents as I was growing up, but it wasn't until I was much older that I realized what a unique perspective this gave me on the world. I was very close to my parents and their circle of friends and family were my mentors. I had wonderful Aunts who would come out to California from Iowa and teach me wonderful crafts and cooking, and Uncle's who would simply talk and play checkers with me when all the other adults were to busy to play. Our home was always a buzz of activity with family and friends coming and going.
As a result of having older people to share my young years with, I have an appreciation for older peoples stories, movies from the 40s and 50s, a knowledge of farm cooking, and just how important family reunions are. Another little ritual I enjoyed in my teens that most kids my age had no idea about, was having a Hope Chest. This unique concept for our time was a left over from the dowries of the 1800s. When immigrants came from Europe, it was a young girls chest where she gathered handiwork for when she became a wife and mother. I was fascinated by this custom and had to have one of my own. So, in my teens I began collecting things like special dishes, silverware, handmade lace from my grandmothers and such items. Each thing having meaning and a dream attached to it. For awhile I used a little cardboard box to keep them in. Then my dad gave me a real trunk, a Hope Chest, on my 16th birthday.By the time I married I had an abundant little nest of family heirlooms and practical items to put in my first home.
As I continued my journey in life, my Hope Chest soon became a place where I kept precious memories; my daughters Baptism outfit and first Brownie vest, her finger paint art and special cards she had made me, and lots of her darling homemade lace sweaters and dresses from her Peruvian Great Grandma that I knew she would love for her own family someday.
This week my daughter Alex is home from college. We have been catching up on whats going on in her life and watching old movies together. Yesterday though, we got a bug to do some organizing, something her and I love to do! I asked her to help me move some things into my new office. One of these was my Hope Chest that now sits in front of my desk. She asked if we could go through it and I thought it was a great idea to clean it out and have it ready for her to take some day with her. So, for several hours we unwrapped little treasures as she oood and aahhhd as tiny clothes, her first dolly, and little projects she had made me tumbled from inside of the big trunk.
There was an extensive antique crystal shoe collection she had started when she was about 7. I was antique shopping with my sister in-law and she asked Alex what she would like to collect and hunt for when we went on these outings. Alex thought and then proclaimed that she would hunt for "single glass shoes like Cinderella!" Over five or so years she found special little specimens of single shoes and displayed them on a shelf in her room. Yesterday, as she sat on the floor surrounded in these little treasures and all grown up, I could only see the little princess of so many years ago, hunting for just the right one in our travels to antique stores.
By afternoon, we had reached the bottom of the trunk and she had amassed quite a pile of what she wanted to put back into the trunk to keep. Behind her I noticed a little pile and asked what it was. She pulled the things forward and asked if she could go through them; it was my pregnancy journal, cookbook I had made, and a sealed letter. She asked if she could read the journal, so we went through it together and had some good laughs. She saw her ultra sounds and some funny notes her dad had written me. It was wonderful! We fingered through the cookbook and I explained I had gathered the recipes from friends and family while I was pregnant with her and had to be quite the first few months. Then she pulled out the letter and asked me what it was. I explained it was a letter her dad had written to her and put into the trunk many years ago after being diagnosed with a rare tumor. "We were not sure if he would survive the surgery because of the nature of the tumor", I explained. Jaime had chosen to write this letter for her to read when she was older. Naturally, she could not imagine she never knew this and was quite shocked. I explained that the tumor had thankfully been benign and had no consequence on his health at all. She stared at the letter, squirming a bit, and could not decide if she wanted to read it or not. As we gently packed all the memories back into the trunk, I saw her slip the envelope into the special shelf on the inside of the trunk and we closed the lid.
A chest of Hopes, Dreams, and Memories. The best part of my trunk is that I was able to share this day with my daughter. Memories that were tucked away with all the little treasures were allowed out of the dark space for awhile to dance around the room with us. As the warm embrace of these memories danced around us I felt my dad's presence sitting on the trunks edge, smiling down and watching over us.
~ Come Gather Around The Table!
