The upstairs hall closet has it's guts spewed on the floor, preventing entry into two bedrooms, waiting for me to decide what gets tossed. goes to charity or kept. It's a tough
discussion. One item I want to keep is a handmade kaleidoscope, given to me by a man a long time ago that my grandfather once took me and my sister to visit. She got one as well, but I can't remember if hers had the same red wall paper on wrapped around the outside as mine or if it was different. I wonder if she still has hers. I have treasured mine. My grandfather was so proud of us girls that he use to take us on his visits to his patients. He was a small town doctor who made house calls. Once such visit was to a man who made wooden toys,
hence the kaleidoscope. Another visit was to a woman who was home bound. We had to drive farther than usual and through a wooded area. I don't remember seeing a car around the home. She was a large woman. Grandfather gave her a shot of something, delivered some
meds, took her blood pressure and then sat down to talk with her. There was a smell in the air. A smell I now call death. I have smelled that smell three times in my life (actually 4 - but I can't be sure about the third time. If it was a smell or just a feeling - so I am going to discounted as just a feeling). That time with the large woman who was home bound. Then again when I visited a neighbor of my grandparents. We use to visit them ever so often crossing
PeePa's ya
rd and ending up in their back yard. I can't remember their names, but they were kind to us and had cookies (such the memories of a child "they had cookies" funny now). On our last visit the husband gave me a elephant with ivory tusks, which I still have somewhere - waiting to be decided on. I don't know what was given to my sister, Tracy, but it was something of the same. I smelled death on that day too. Less than a month later the wife had died in a car accident. The seat beat caused internal bleeding. She died in hospital (as they use to say back then, maybe still do). The last time was I smelled death was a weekend in June. The whole family was gathering at my parents house to celebrate 3 birthdays, Father's day, an anniversary and an upcoming birth (my sister's first child, Emilie). My son, husband and I had just arrived at the home and were entering via the back door. The minute we entered the back door I turned to my son and said " You smell that? That's old people smell." I now know that was death. The house doesn't have that smell any more. My father died less than a week later. The red
kaleidoscope is fulled with dust now. I wonder if I can clean it out with a
vacuum clearer or a hair dryer (I don't own a hair dryer). I really don't want to loss it. It provides so many memories and one leads to another. Such a small thing. And why the hell won't this post allow for paragraphs???
