Last Saturday Meow and spent some time together in the study. King tagged along at first but quickly lost interest and padded his way back down the stairs—I assume to explore for more interesting prospects in his chow bowl.
It had been a while since I’d looked at my grandmother Irene’s papers, and I thought it would be a good time to refresh my knowledge by reading some of her astrological notes. Grandma kept copious notes in beautifully bound diaries. I keep them safe in the same wooden chest she used to store them in, which now resides in a corner of the study.
I think Emma must have been in the study recently because the room was delightfully cool, sweet smelling, and surprisingly free of dust. So I sat cross-legged in front of the chest while Meow curled up around my coffee mug on the floor to my right.
There is something a bit ritualistic in opening up Grandma’s old chest after so long. It feels sacred to me and I was filled with anticipation. Of course, I was immediately greeted by the faint whiff of roses from the greenhouse. My grandmother loved to dry a bouquet of roses from her garden and disperse the flowers around the house for me to find. I’ve continued the tradition, but instead l place them on top of her old ephemeris and diaries. That way each time I open the chest I feel her presence all the more.
Image courtesy of Gualberto107 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
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