If I tell you that my relationship to things has changed over the last few months, I am sure you would understand.
One of the hardest parts of this process is that there are so many things to deal with. Everybody has things that they would hate to part with. That picture, that lock of hair, those tiny little remnants of a corsage from long ago. I had the sad duty to go through those things for my Brian and I came to realize that all the little things that were kept by one person, usually won't mean much to another no matter how close we were or how long we lived together. I have a surfeit of things.
And yet in the oddest way, as I rebuild a life alone, I am faced with the desire to gather the things from my own past, from our shared past, his and mine, ever closer.
If it wasn't for that desire, I am just not sure that I could explain my desire for this thing. No, not a shared thing. hahaha.
My grandmother had a bunch of these volumes and over the years, I made many many of her doilies. My cousins wanted the books a few years ago and since they have as much right to them as I do, I sent them on their merry way, knowing that they will be used and loved. That did not mean that I have not missed them. Makes no sense I know. I have not crocheted a doily in a very long while, but...
I watch for these on ebay and Etsy and buy one once in a while. I pick them up if I see them at the used bookstore or the Sally Ann store.
I am really thrilled to have this volume though. This volume was one of my favourites. All small doilies and one that I remember (second from the top, underneath, with the interesting points) making. It was unusual in its construction. I gave the one I made to one of my very good friends for a graduation gift.
I have the strongest urge to get out my crochet hooks and find the box of very fine threads and make one of them again. Very very strong urge.
A doily is a thing out of time in the modern world and yet..., oh how I want to make some. Maybe they will come into fashion and be necessary again? Maybe then they wouldn't be just yet another thing? Till then I will admire the work of her lifetime and be glad for the memory.