Sweet Old Things

There is a rose bush blooming in my yard, close to the porch banister. It's not a fancy rose, just a small, nearly red bloom that is trying for one last hurrah before fall.

The unique thing about this rose bush is that it came from my great-great-grandmother's yard. And maybe her mother's yard before her, no one remembers now that my grandmother is gone.

We have other bushes and flowers in our yard that have come from Husband's mother, and my grandmothers, and my mother.

We have a few antiques in our house, but not very many, and none, far as I know, worth a whole lot. Other furniture is reproduction furniture, most of which I purchased before Husband and I married. (Now that I think about it, maybe it is antique by now!)

I started collecting a certain china pattern when I was eighteen. When my grandmother found out that was the pattern I wanted, and no one carried it anymore, and also that I was going to garage sales and yard sales looking, she gave me a vegetable bowl and a platter. She told me she once had the whole set, but over the many years of using it daily, it all was broken one way or another except for these two pieces.

She came by the whole set by collecting them from the barrels of sugar and flour my grandfather would purchase for the grocery store they owned.

When  my great-grandfather's sister died (this was the other side of my family), her daughter called to let me know there were two pieces of the china if I wanted to look at them before they  had an estate sell the next day. I did. Of course, they expected money, which made my grandmother furious!

After some years, the pattern became popular again, and instead of finding a plate for twenty-five cents, they were priced at twenty-five dollars.

I don't get a new piece very often anymore, not unless it's something unusual.

And photographs! Now, we do have some old photographs of family.

I sat Daughter down and began discussing what was really valuable in the house - photographs of ancestors, what dishes came from family, and other do-dads that had sentimental value.

She squirmed and said it made her uncomfortable, she didn't want to think about me dying, ever. I explained to her it wasn't me leaving I was thinking about, but her. And when she did leave to make her own nest somewhere, I wanted her to have memories. So that when I died, she'd know what was valuable.

There is no price tag on this stuff. But it's what one should take away with them from their parent's estate: the things that connect the love from one generation to the next.

Not bank accounts.

Because someday, I want her to show someone her yard and point to a rose bush and say, "That rose bush came from my great-great-great grandmother's yard. And maybe her mother's yard, too. No one really knows."