Saturday, June 1, 2013

About the Blankets on the Bed

I feel such pangs over such small, unexpected things. They are things which mark change.

I put clean sheets on the bed. It now has winter blankets on. The weather is likely to get colder yet. I think about that happening, and about adding the big tiger rug. Then I realise with a pang that this will probably be all I need. 

Andrew, with his circulation problems, sometimes had a lot of blankets on. We didn't have the tiger rug then, but we had various good woollen blankets, which each of us contributed to the household when we got together. Over the 20 years of our relationship, those blankets became our good friends, part of the family. Now, it's probable I'll never use them again — not on my bed. I have a moment of wishing for my friend Helen's ruthlessness in decluttering, but then I think I might need them for the spare beds, if at some time I have visitors in winter. They're doing no harm, stashed away in the bottom of the linen cupboard; they're not taking up space that I need for anything else. I may as well keep them. 

I straighten the big brown blanket which I'm using as a quilt at the moment. Andrew was the one who brought that into the marriage. I don't know its history prior to that — as I suppose he never knew the history of those chequered ones which I look at and remember my kids when they were little, and houses we lived in then. 

When I see the brown blanket, I  remember that when we lived up on Pinnacle Road I looked at the orange-gold satin ribbon edging it, which was worn and frayed and missing some sections, and decided the blanket itself was too good to be allowed to look like that any longer. I unpicked and removed all the ribbon, and got out some thick, deep red wool. You wouldn't think that'd go with dark brown, but it looked and still looks marvellous. I bound the edge all around with blanket stitch, using my big wool needle. Then I crocheted a fancy edging, hooking first into the row of blanket stitch. That must have been in 1995. It still looks good, and it kept us warm for the rest of those 20 years. Last year he was under it with me, and all those years before, every winter. But not this winter. Another pang.

I must stop dwelling on the memories that hurt. But they sneak up on me. They reside in my household goods, the familiar things we shared and enjoyed. So many memories! Good ones mainly, and occasionally I can dwell in them with pleasure. But, mostly, not yet.




‘Six Word Saturday’ emanates from Call Me Cate’s blog, Show My Face. To read her and other people’s ‘Six Word Saturday’ posts, click the icon.

10 comments:

  1. Thank you for sharing this with us. You write beautifully, taking us right to the moment with you. Many hugs for you, friend.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you for the comment, and the hugs are very welcome!

      Delete
  2. Hello Rosemary,

    It's been a while since my last SWS, I'm happy to be back to visit and discover bloggers.

    I'm moved by your post, I can rely on the all last paragraph. When you write " I must stop dwelling on the memories that hurt. But they sneak up on me." I see myself in a certain way, and a friend lately told me that they sneak up on me because I sneak up on them. I leave with ghosts for so long..

    Happy SWS as much as possible!

    Grace

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Many thanks, Grace. Your friend's point is worth examining!

      Delete
    2. Well I'm working on it Rosemary. Thank you for stopping by my place and see you next saturday.

      Grace

      Delete
    3. Ah, I meant it is worth my examination too! :)

      Yes, see you then.

      Delete
  3. Ya that sounds tough to look at all of those old things that y'all used to do together. Sorry for your loss.
    : )

    ReplyDelete
  4. So sorry for your loss. I often look at my pictures of our 6 year old granddaughter Anna, and feel those same kinds of feelings. She has been in heaven for 8 years now, and we still speak of her often, and miss her so much!

    I like what Elisabeth Elliot always said: "You are loved with an everlasting love...and underneath are the everlasting arms."

    Hugs to you, and prayers for God's mercies to be new every morning!

    Linda @ Truthful Tidbits

    ReplyDelete