A Moment of Legacy

Posted by on Mar 11, 2015 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts |

A Moment of Legacy

This morning I sit at my kitchen table, my de facto office. I’ve been sitting here a lot these days as I work on my latest book. I’m approaching final revisions and I’m ready to be done. de facto office

A couple of days ago I had one of those moments of recognition. One of those moments which, if you know me at all, you know I revel in. It’s not really déjà vu. It’s more like the quote from Breakfast at Tiffany’s when they ask the man in the store to engrave a Cracker Jack ring.

“Do they still really have prizes in Cracker Jack boxes? . . . That’s nice to know. . . It gives one a feeling of solidarity, almost of continuity with the past, that sort of thing.”

That’s the kind of moment I had. Let me explain.

Our home is a family home. My husband’s parents built it before any of their boys were born. My father-in-law hurried home on weekend leave from boot camp in South Carolina to make sure it was enclosed and safe for his wife when he left for Korea. They raised four boys in this home, and after her husband died, Bruce’s mom stayed here for many years.

I never met either of them, but I’ve had the privilege of getting to “know them” through their home. For instance, our kitchen table is the very one that they used in their kitchen. I love it because it is a classic. It is yellow, and I like yellow. I like the fact that I can see the worn spot in the top where his Mama set her coffee cup.

A few years ago we added an addition off to the side of the existing home. The addition includes our new, bright kitchen which looks out on the deck and across the back yard. It actually sits pretty much where an old red cedar tree sat. An ice storm took the top out of the tree several years ago, so we didn’t mind so much taking it down, but still it was sad.

Mama only (hi res)

See, Bruce’s Mama loved to read, especially romances. She always wanted to travel, but by the time she could. . . well, she couldn’t, due to health problems. So, she sat at her kitchen table, read books about exotic places near and far, drank coffee, and watched the birds in the cedar tree out of the kitchen window. She especially loved a pair of doves that nested in the cedar tree. She read romances, after all.

That kitchen window is now a doorway into our new kitchen. The table sits very close to where the tree once stood. At the old yellow table I write books about places near and far, drink coffee, and watch the birds come to the cedar birdfeeder on our new deck. I especially like watching the chickadees playfully swoop in and out, taking turns at the feeder. I write children’s stories, after all.

So, when I say I have a sense of solidarity or continuity with the past, that’s what I’m talking about. I have another word for it, one I am very fond of.

I call it legacy.

Buy this book now!

Buy this book now!