Sorting Through Memories
My brother and I sorted through our mother’s things today. The big things, not that there were many after years in a home, were irrelevant. The brooch I fiddled with as a child, the picture that had always been on the wall at home, the tapestry sewn with arthritic fingers, made me take notice. My brother, six years younger. had memories with a different skew, but memories all the same, of times, events, words and warmth. The photos and cards were carefully kept, of birthdays, anniversaries and other people’s holidays. The precious letters set aside, revealed so much, about mum … and us.