You Only Keep What You Give Away

You only keep what you give away.
I was reminded of this principle again recently when I experienced the computer glitch of a writer’s worst nightmares and all my files were lost.
Bummer.
So now I am searching my gmail files for attachments and discovering that I’m glad I always share my stuff.
This week’s events reminded me of an experience that happened right after my son was born almost thirteen years ago.
My friend showed up one day with a one-of-a-kind baby gift.
Imagine my surprise when I opened the package and discovered that she had given me two tiny items from the store of things she was saving for her own grandchildren someday.
It was one of my all time favorite gifts because I understood that she was giving me something very personal, a gift of herself; a “Baby’s First Christmas” bib and an antique plaque with a dimpled cherub from the wall of the nursery her own sons had out-grown. I hung the plaque next to William’s crib and, being a Christmas baby himself, he spit up on the bib immediately.
Within months after Christmas, I received a call from a mutual friend one morning.
“Cathy, there was a fire at Joyce’s house last night. Everyone is safe.”
The scene was surreal. Her two-story home overlooking the lake, designed by an architect who was a colleague of Frank Lloyd Wright, had been a masterpiece of contemporary architecture. Now it was a charred, blackened slab.
The insurance company made an initial payment immediately and within days Joyce’s family was settled in a rent house with a convenient storage barn out back.
Where there had been family heirloom furniture, now there were practical, simple pieces like desks for the boys from Walmart.
She explained to me that the process was actually freeing somehow.
Fortunately, over the years, she had given copies of all family portraits to family members, so her pictures were already coming home.
Then we went to the barn where there was a row of plastic tubs holding the few indestructible items they had managed to salvage. We spent the day scrubbing thick, black goo off of china and the few pieces of silver that didn’t melt.
And I returned her bib and her plaque.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.