It is that quiet time before the day begins.
Breakfast awaits, but I am in no hurry.
Surrounded by beauty captured in tiny treasures
Plundered from the world’s store.
Soft music plays faintly somewhere,
And, in the distance, there is the sound of conversation and laughter.
An old Singer sewing machine treadle sits on my right
With an ancient Chinese vase on top.
Next to it, a plaster bust of Aphrodite
Sits on a marble pedestal.
Yet they do not clash.
They are part of an eclectic collection –
Like the one in your grandmother’s home.
It silently reflects on all the places she has been
And all the things she has done in her full, but hidden life –
Things and places you have never seen – nor knew that she had.
How well do you really know her?
Why did she select that tiny porcelain dish, or that exquisite piece of embroidery?
Did she know the creator, the former owner, well?
Was it given to her by a friend, a lover, she once knew?
Or did she find it, accidentally, in the jumble of items in an antique shop somewhere?
Does it have any special meaning – a special memory – for her?
I find myself looking back over my life and the treasures that I have collected.
I realize that, if I had a home, it would be filled with an eclectic collection like this.
Will anyone know why I treasure each item – what it means to me personally?
Maybe that is why I feel at home here.
She has traveled, as I have traveled, to many places.
She has collected, as I have collected, tiny treasures that capture the essence
Of places and times along the way.
Now, alone in this place, she can sit quietly – as I sit –
And breathe in memories.
And, for a time – just for a moment – find respite from the trials of the day,
And the burdens of the hour,
And be restored.
The oxygen of objects.
© 2020 Sharon L Bryant