She handed me a piece of paper when I dropped the baby off on Friday and asked me to type it up and fax it to the realtor. It was a list of items that they were willing to part with. The doctors buying their home asked the realtor if they would consider selling any of their furniture because they simply loved my mother's taste.
"I love that table", I said, speaking of the funky teak Danish Modern table that we shared meals on for the past 15 years.
"Of course you do", she said, "but you can't afford it."
"I can't understand why you wouldn't just give it to me", I said.
"Well, you don't want it, it's a little beat up and if I get rid of all of this stuff, I can buy some new stuff", she said without any glint of emotion.
"So much for family heirlooms", I said.
I got in my car and backed out of the driveway. It struck me as strange that my parents who are so generous can be so bizarre. I thought of the beautiful teak table, an elipse clipped at the ends, honey gold and warm. The chairs elegant and sexy, fine thin strips of teak rising up and curving in a lumbar form at the back, fanning out in an arc separated by solid balls of wood at the very top.
I thought of the slight milky white stain on one part of the table that was made by a plate of hot food. I thought of the other mark, a dark small spot from a burning cigarette left unattended by a brother dead now almost six years. Forever 28. It made me cry. This table was one of the last things I could think of that had his mark on it. There will be nothing left after this that I can touch to remind myself that he was here, I had another brother once.
We ate memorable meals, had birthday cakes, opened presents. We talked around this table, told stories and lies. And cried. We shared our lives. Life changes and we move on each in our own way. An heirloom is yours only as long as you last. And sometimes heirlooms are yours only as long as they last.
heirlooms, loss, moving on
2 comments:
Boy, you're having a crappy time with the folks, huh? I wonder if she would even hear you if you told her how much the table would mean to you. Might be worth a try.
Famiiles are pretty darned strange sometimes. My mom is much more sensitive than this, and she freaks me the hell out sometimes with her weirdness. My only consolation at these times is that I guess I'll do the same to Maya someday, and I can say it runs in the family. ;)
Thanks for the kind thoughts! I told my mom how I felt when she stopped by on Monday with the clock and she said she felt the same way. She didn't want to get rid of the table because it reminded her of my brother. She is so much like my her own mother- like a rolling stone they gather no moss. Neither one of them kept things, they just gave them away sold them or forgot about them. I share her impetuousness and impulsiveness. She's not going to sell the table. YAY!
My mom is very good to me, I think it's just that we are so close we some times erupt, like the moth that gets too close to the flame, yeouch. Most people have distance from their parents, but not me. There are advantages and some big downers, yes. I love the fact that I can be a SuperMom to my SuperBaby. Maya is very lucky as well! ;)
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