I loved spending the night with them the most though; eating delicious home-cooked Italian dinners, talking and laughing while my Grandpa called me his little gypsy and watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune in the living room while Grandma would answer all the questions and solve all of the word puzzles out loud.
And I'll never forget how she would pin curl her hair. I remember her sitting in her recliner with a black, velvet pouch covered in pink & red flowers with dark green leaves resting in her lap. As she watched over us, she would gingerly section off her wet hair and slowly coil them into neat, little spirals on top of her head. Securing them into place with the metal bobby pins from inside that black velvet pouch. It was something I admired, even as a little girl. And something I can still so clearly remember as an adult.
Sometimes I wish, that after Grandma had passed, I would have asked to keep that pouch of her, those metal bobby pins still kept safely inside. Perhaps maybe having that memory is worth so much more. And it's weird to me, that something so innocent as recalling her doing that simple act will sometimes make me cry.
Sweet, sweet memories! It is indeed strange what our minds will recall at times. I'm sorry your don't have that little black velvet pouch full of bobby pins, but your memories of her using them is so much better!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Terri. I think you are right too, sometimes the memories are really more important the items themselves.
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