Today is a PJ day. Three days of family, fun, laughter, friends, food and alarm clocks . . . . . not today baby! Today i slept til 1030, am still sitting here in my pjs at 152, and dont plan to get out of them until 6pm! Because, yes, social director that i am, i have made plans without the hubby knowing, and we are off to dinner with friends this evening. Dinner that will probably turn into drinks, laughter, games and good times. How lucky am I??
We received 1 gift that means an awful lot do Dean and I, and it was not a Christmas Gift, it was just an "I know you will appreciate this" gift.
It is a mirror, encased in wood, that was hung for years in the house that Deans grandfather built in Milton in the early 1900s. The first house built entirely from the red brick that came out of the Milton Brick Yard in Tremaine, the brick yard where Clarence Hill worked to provide for his family. The house still stands on Peru Road, and if I win the lottery, one day we will buy it.
This mirror holds many memories for Deans mom, and she wanted it passed onto someone that would appreciate it - ME and DEANO> We are huge fans of family history, and to think that this mirror is probably between 75 and 100 years old, and that Deans grandparents used to hang their hats on it after a hard day working at the Milton Brick Yard, or picking berries, or hanging wash out on the line . . . we are honoured to now have this hanging in our home. I will pass this mirror onto the first boy that gets married, and tell him the stories attached to it. Stories that they can pass onto their children. Deans mom refinished the frame, and it is a rich oak colour, and weighs about 20lbs. it is a wonderful, warm and important addition to our home.
If a mirror could tell memories, it would tell of the times that our families faced in the 1930s and 1940s, of the soldier doing the final adjustment on his beret as he headed off to war; of the bride checking her veil before heading to the church; of the father putting his fedora at the right angle before heading to the Legion for a drink with his buddies; of the teenager, adjusting their lipstick before their first date; of the daughter crying as her father threw her out of the house; of the mother wondering what the next day would bring. . . . . if only a mirror could tell memories.
There would also be the memories of all the hats that were hung there; the summer berry picking hats; the Sabbath Day hats; the childrens straw hats; the more recent ball caps; the hat of the father that ruled the house with an iron hand, that often landed on his children in anger; of the hat of the mother that would hug the child close to her bosom, telling them that she loved them; of the grandchildren that would stand on the deacons bench that was below the mirror and preen.
If only a mirror could tell it's stories - of the painstaking, patient hands that refinished the frame (Donna); of the original hooks that have been missing for years; of the pride of the owner, handing the mirror over to her middle child. Donna may just think she has handed over a mirror,but to me she has handed over a history, and every time i hang my keys, or Dean hangs his hat, we will look into the mirror and try to feel, see and hear the memories that is holds. Thank you Donna, for the most thoughtful and wonderful gift to us. We will honour it.
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