Is it my old broken down couch that is my favorite cozy place?
Perhaps it is my old pair of slippers that keep my feet snug and warm.
Surely, it can't be that container in the back of the fridge that has unidentifiable contents.
So what is it then?
When I hear the two words "something old," I tend to associate that with an item the bride is supposed to have in her possession on her wedding day, like her mother's pearl necklace or a granny's handkerchief.
What exactly constitutes something old? Is it something familiar or something aged?
Does it have to be 5 years or older? 10 years or older? Does it have to be an antique or on the registry of historical places?
If I say my something old is a dear friend, does it mean that my friend has had more birthdays than she wants to count or that we have been friends for a very long time?
All the pondering thoughts above are excellent questions and could even be considered qualifiers, but I haven't revealed the something old for which I am grateful, have I?
When my grandma passed away, I became the new owner of all her sewing notions...wooden spools, jars of buttons, darning needles, scraps of material, embroidery thread, and even her old treadle machine. But rather than the actual sewing paraphernalia, I am thankful for the memories I have of Grandma when I look at those things. Thinking of all the careful handwork she did with those items brings fond memories and makes me appreciate her thriftiness and craftsmanship. No one thinks twice about throwing away an old pair of socks with holes, and pairs of jeans are now purchased already ripped. But I can remember the care Grandma took when patching torn jeans or when darning a sock with a thinning heel, and I am in awe of that day and age and Grandma's tenacity.
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