First of all, my apologies in advance of you reading this post. I’ve a tendency to get a little maudlin this time of year. Missing friends; family…
My roommate (and place-to-live benefactor) and I are very close. We’re good friends – truth be told, we used to date. So we know much about each other including backstory, family history, skeletons. Stuff from our past(s).
And we were fortunate enough to visit the last gun show together. A couple of blog friends were kind enough to give me the financial means. (Thanks, again, we couldn’t have done it without you!)
But there are land mines in the psyche. Stuff I’ve forgotten about and don’t expect. Buried deep. You see, I used to take my daughter to the gun shows. We used to visit antique malls, as well, and sometimes little antique-y things are displayed at gun shows. There were a few at this one.
When my daughter was small, and she’d see a cameo, she’d remark, “There’s that lady, again.” Hearing that always brought a smile to my face.
And, of course, I shared her expression long ago with my roommate. Part of the tales from the past people getting to know one-another pass along. And I always hear Molly’s voice in my head when I see that kind of jewelry.
So, here we are at the gun show, taking it all in, and up comes an antique jewelry display. Not exactly why I visit guns shows. So, I’m getting ready to gloss over it, when my roommate says softly, reverently,
There’s that lady, again.