The BrocanteHome Puttery Treats Challenge

Alison, at BrocanteHome, is having a Puttery Treat Challenge between now and November 15. If you've never discovered the scrumptiously vintage place that is BrocanteHome, you've been missing something wonderfully, girly and oh so fun.

Please don't tell me you aren't familiar with Puttery Treats either! Oh my dear, they are simply the best little ideas to treat yourself - for renewing your spirit, rewarding your hard work or just celebrating the woman you are.

The challenge is to blog about just one of the many wonderful treats on the BrocanteHome list. Choosing was perhaps the most difficult part, but I chose this one:

Make a ritual out of tying your old love letters together, bundling your children's first drawings or making pretty piles of scrap fabric prettily wrapped.



I sit here, with my life spread out before me on the kitchen table which is covered with Grandma's pale blue tablecloth. As I gaze about the pile, I see my history, my dreams, my secret moments pass before my mind's eye as if on a film strip. I hear the click-clack of the projector with each turn of a page, and I see the flickering of the screen each time my gaze shifts from item to item. I am remembering, reliving and celebrating me and those with whom life has intertwined me up to this point.

I see my first baby photo, with me wearing the yellow silk dress my mother sewed lovingly out of the fabric my father brought as a gift of a long year in Vietnam - their first year of marriage, spent tragically apart. And so there I begin. But my life really began before me, didn't it? Oh yes, here is my mom as a teenager, her bright smile and youthful stance shows promise and hope for the future, and in her eye there is a glimmer of independence, or is that stubbornness I see? Now I've found a photo of my dad as a young man with his siblings, all gathered around their piano singing hymns together. Are these proof of my love of music and my slight stubborn streak? And here is a wedding photo, with bride and groom beaming with joy at the excitement of a new life about to begin, despite knowing one of them would be sent to a far away country within the month. Evidence of a love, a marriage, not forgotten because of war, is the photo of me as a newborn in that pretty yellow dress.

Years roll by with each school photo I find. Missing teeth, returned by the tooth fairy in a little manila envelope fits the puzzle of the toothless grin from my 1st grade photo. Those teeth bring forth the memory of falling from the top of a tall slide, visits to special dentists and a longer-than-usual phase of gap-filled smiles. I find school papers, drawings and grade reports that indicate I'm a good student.

Siblings are added to this photographic story, a sister when I turn 5, and a brother when I'm almost 7. Seeing their photos reminds me of why people used to think they were twins. A family of five now appears, all of us in our Sunday best. We look happy, and yet, under the surface of mom and dad's face, are those worry lines I see, are they wondering how to feed us, where the money for bills will come? Each family photo shows us grown a bit more in size, and I see the age, the wear and the exhaustion of life shown on my parents face a little more in each one. There is the worry about being out of work for a year. I can tell that year, as my clothes look worn in my school photo. I remember that Christmas, the tears of relief my mom shed when a church surprised us with toys and food on Christmas Eve.

Suddenly, I find a photo of a pretty, innocent and shy young woman wearing a peach sweater with rather large shoulder pads. The year is 1989, and I'm a senior in high school. Here is a newspaper clipping of the ceremony for my receiving a national scholarship. I remember feeling so humbled and grateful and so utterly shocked to have been chosen. A high school diploma, a college transcript, mementos from a trip to France in high school all show that I'm becoming an independent young woman, ready for life and looking for love.

And there it is - found in a photo of a man named Peter. I also see it in the old worn cassette tape of "our song" - Everything I Do by Bryan Adams. We saw Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves on our second date and the theme song instantly became the melody that, to this day, makes us both giddy. An engagement photo, romantic cards, dried flowers and a small temporary engagement ring that somehow all find their way to the top of the pile. I pick up another wedding photo, this time my own. In my heart and mind, I can hear vows being spoken, see eyes spilling forth the love our hearts cannot hold completely, and feel a warm hand clasp mine as a shiny gold ring with a small pure diamond is slipped over my finger. Oh how many times I've gazed at that ring. Fifteen times I've watched the video from that day, one time for each year of marriage. And still, always, forever he's my best friend, my lover, my support. Our little family began on that day.

And yet, we were not complete. Soon there will be a new addition as this photo of a gigantic-bellied me shows. The maternal glow has already begun to show in my face. A tiny face, sweet and pure greets the world and fills our hearts with new joy. We are parents and our little Hope has captured our hearts, woven herself into the fabric of our being. In another 2 years, a second tiny girl, this one named Joy, makes herself known. As I gaze at these little people I've helped to create I remember my prayers to God that I'd have little girls and I'm grateful He heard and answered. Here is a poem book from Hope's 2nd grade year; the writer in her was evident even then. And here are some of Joy's wonderful drawings, a budding artist from the very beginning. More school photos to sort through, each a little more mature, and suddenly I'm staring at the most recent photo - of a high school Freshman and her 7th grade sister. These girls, who seem to have emerged from my womb just yesterday, are young women. Their lives changing and growing and blooming before my eyes, on the cusp of adulthood, of the future. What memories will they call forth as they spread their own lives upon a table, covered with an old tablecloth that bring such fond memories of their own Grandma's house?

I gather my photos, my years, my life and bundle them up. I'm tempted to make a nice neat pile, but somehow the haphazard way these things lie together reflects my own life, with its many torn edges, creased pages and frayed fabric moments. I'm tempted to tie a knot in this ribbon to hold everything securely together, and yet I know my life is not finished. Over the years, I will have many more photos, swatches and memorabilia to include in my pile. So I tie a pretty bow, and as I do, I know that every moment, good and bad, has been precious. Every item adds to the beauty that is me, just like the pretty bow does for my pile of treasures.