I have been living in the past for exactly all of today. For a change, it's not in a sort of melancholy nostalgia, but rather the nostalgia that makes you shake your head at your young self and be grateful that your life turned out the way it did despite all of that shit.
When my husband's grandmother passed away in early 2013 and the family got together for the funeral and to divide things up I wasn't able to go but my husband did. He would call me and tell me about his aunts and uncles and all the treasures stashed away in his grandmother's house.
Most of the really good stuff went to the households of other grandchildren since they have found reason and resource to carry on the family line where we have effectively halted it. The initial omission stings a little but is hugely logical so it's easy to get over.
His mother is a kind lady and knowing that I have a penchant for handbags, and of course not wanting me to feel left out, handed down some vintage beaded handbags and coin purses. Some of them are not beautiful by most people's standards including hers and my own but it's the sentiment that I am her daughter that makes them worthwhile to look at. I know how attached she is to her family history and some of the items that have been in her family for decades if not a century. She's told me repeatedly since then as well that I'm her daughter and that's the way it is and there's really just not anything I can do about it.
When it came to a typewriter that had belonged to her grandmother (or maybe a grand aunt?) my husband was quick on the draw to snag it for me since I had talked about getting one. It was likely going to be discarded so I feel like I've saved a poor helpless typewriter, preserved a little more of my husband's family's history and maybe a bit of our past as a society, at least for a little while. My father in law still says, "You want that!? I don't know why anyone would want that old thing."
The typewriter stayed in the states for almost 2 years due to shipping and visiting logistics but I've got it in my happy little hands now.
So after I poured over old diary entries and searched the internet for people from a previous life, I was delighted to find the ribbon still had a little bit of ink and I typed a cheesy note to my husband who will be most impressed with that note even though I really have nothing else to show for today.
It's okay, I guess, to spend some time in the past but I'd better move on soon or undoubtedly, shit's gonna get real.
3:06 p.m. - 2015-01-07
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More Fucking Nostalgia (And A Little Panic)
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Good luck, patience.
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