My sister and I, along with my best childhood friend since the first grade just finished giving an estate sale to sell the leftover items that nobody wanted from my mother’s apartment. It sounds kind of sad to say that nobody wanted those things, because we probably would have taken more if we lived in bigger houses. My sister, who lives in a house with less storage than mine, has the philosophy of “something in, something out.” I am more of a hoarder sentimental fool who has a memory and a long-winded story attached to everything. Our friend, who tends to keep things also, is downsizing to a smaller house, so passing the stuff to her was out of the question. We each had the chance to take whatever we wanted when we closed the apartment last winter. We divided things without argument, as we both agree that things are just that…things. Some items went to the trash, others to our cabin, and the stuff we didn’t want went into storage for the estate sale. We then cleared out two pickup loads of junk vintage items from our cabin to make room for the new. Our husbands did a lot of the hauling, and we didn’t hear a word of complaint from them (at least not within earshot) but I did catch a little eye rolling here and there. As I packed away Mom’s small old electric percolator and coffee mugs, I had a moment of regret. Even though I have a modern coffee maker that I just have to drop in a pod in and brew, I love the taste of percolated coffee and enjoyed many a cup sitting in the sunny breakfast nook at my parents’ old house eating toast made with Mom’s homemade bread spread with Dad’s wild strawberry jam. Estate sales are more work than fun, but it was nice to visit with old friends who stopped by but didn’t buy nearly enough, former students of Dad’s, and neighbors. When it came time to pack it all up again for donation, I realized that nobody had purchased that old coffee percolator. I just couldn’t let it go, any more than I could let my favorite coffee mug be sold, which didn’t even make it into the sale. This morning, I washed everything and wiped down the stainless steel until it shone. I ground some coffee beans and ran fresh cold water. Mom always said that coffee tastes better of you let the water run for a minute or two. By the time I took the dog out, it was ready, and I sat at the dining room table in the morning sunshine drinking coffee with cream out of an English china mug with pictures of plum blossoms on it. I don’t make homemade bread, and I don’t have the patience or the time to pick enough wild strawberries to make jam, but my memories were sweet enough that for a moment, I almost tasted them both.
Sweet Memories
June 23, 2014 by The Minnesota Farm Woman
Memories come in all shapes and sizes dont they. A lovely post
LikeLike
priceless column, Chris….
Ann No matter how slowly you go, you are still lapping everyone on the couch
Date: Mon, 23 Jun 2014 14:04:40 +0000 To: hedquistann@hotmail.com
LikeLike
Thanks, Ann!
LikeLike
What a lovely story…I too remember my parents old percolator coffee pot and how it seem to be on 24 hours a day in our house…my parents drank coffee all day long it was not just a morning drink to them…thanks for the memories 🙂
LikeLike
You’re welcome! Thanks for reading!
LikeLike
Never stop writing, Dear Minnesota Farm Woman. Never.
LikeLike
Awwwwww…Thanks!
LikeLike
Thanks for helping me to see things in a dirfnfeet light.
LikeLike
Nice story. I get it with the coffee pot.
LikeLike
Thanks, Barn!
LikeLike
That was a heart-tugger for sure Chris. I sure do enjoy your stories and when You write about Jean and Gil it is especially heart warming. Keep up the good work. Respectfully, Peg G
>
LikeLike
Thank you!
LikeLike
I am not a big reader or a blogger. I happened on this page this morning and I am now in love. I am going to read all of these. I can picture all of this in my mind by these beautifully written words. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and memories. 🙂
LikeLike
Oh, thank you so much, Emily! I appreciate your kind words.
LikeLike
YES! the old percolator.. i found my moms perc pot one day while cleaning out a cupboard. my dad, who’s still alive, loves his bunn coffee maker, so i sent it to him when he remarried and moved to another neighboring town.. just in time to find moms old pot. was cleaning out another cupboard the other day and found yet another one.. she worked at the corningware plant in albion, michigan, so had tons of that stuff. thanks for sharing your memories..
LikeLike
I love it! Thanks for reading!
LikeLike