A story about my Mom

We went to an estate sale today during our mad yard sale run into Old Town. BA and I love weird and wonderful stuff, and today at yard sales we got a bizarre hanging chandelier for our dining room to replace the generic wal mart model our predecessors hung. At the estate sale, we got a frankly odd table with an oval top and two tiny shelves on the bottom. Maybe a candle stand with a place for a tinderbox? Maybe a lamp table with a place for oil? It has little metal claw feet, which makes me so happy.

Anyway, estate sales are little glimpses into someone's life, and today the gentleman in question made me think of my mom. He was a military man, so there were uniforms and foot lockers and more than 20 years of insignia. He made wooden toys, soldiers mostly, but he had some trucks and cars, wooden toys for smaller kids.

Mom loved her Army days, would have retired if she could have, but back then women got married and pregnant and they got an honorable discharge. She made wooden toys for years, loving it when a little kid latched on to a car or a truck and wouldn't let go.

The biggest thing that hit me today, though, was the workshop the man had set up. There was a workbench (sadly a built in and not for sale) that made me think of all the hours my mom spent out in the garage with the dog, sitting on her stood in front of her workbench. She'd have a cigarette dangling out of her mouth, a block of wood in her hand that she would turn into something amazing. I spent a lot of time in her various shops over the years, sanding parts, gluing in pegs. She would chat with me, or we'd sing with the radio or we'd just work, but we were content to spend time together. The smell of sawdust and wood glue will always make me think of her.

XXOO

Julia