I’ve got lots of things.  Yet I’m not terribly “thingy.”  I am quite sentimental.  Like the pictures and cards drawn for me by T-Rilleous-Rumptious that I pack up and move with me from town to town, or how I was in utter derision over a bag I thought was stolen in Pokara because it had my sister’s hairbrush in it. (The bag and brush were found.)

Something that I am finding myself quite attached to of late are these recently acquired towels, given to me by my Grandmother, that had belonged to my Great Grandmother.  Grandma Dorothy slipped from her time bound skin almost exactly two years ago. She had just turned 100. For a number of years she had worn a hearing aid that whistled at me when I bent over to kiss her on the cheek. At that’s just the thing. These towels remind me of her perfectly soft cheeks. I don’t know how these towels got to be so soft. Like her face that was somehow sweetened by time, these towels are reminiscent of a gentleness that her skin held. Perhaps she rubbed a bit of herself into them. I’m almost loath to use any other towels.  Who knew these towels would be carrying a poignant bit of Grandma Dorothy’s essence?  Even their pale blue color echos her fresh calmness.

And I just have to add, that at Grandma Dorothy’s memorial service, the church pianist confided in me that my dear Great Grandmother used to ask her to “play something we can dance to.”