The journey begins again

Well, Dear Prudence,
Seven years ago on December 15th, 2010, I started this blog (you can check the first post here).

And here I am, on the 24th March, 2017, after a five year hiatus, rebeginning the journey I started on this blog.   I went back and read my first post and was reminded that I wanted somewhere to share with people of similar interests to me.  A place to connect, make friendships, and feel a sense of belonging, perhaps.

But now I realise, while all these things are true, noble and valid, that the best person to record these things for is - you.

When my mother died one year ago, an extremely crafty woman with never an idle hand, I was quite surprised by what was important to me.  It wasn't expensive jewellery, or the best furniture, or a financial legacy.
What became to me the most precious cherished object, the thing that I had maybe disdained while she was alive, was a battered old Pringles tin, that she kept all her crochet hooks and paraphernalia in.

Who would have thought?



She loved to sit in her armchair, watching her favourite shows on the telly, crochet in hand and Pringles tin at her side.  It became an icon describing something about who she was.  She was happy as long as she could busy herself in one creation or another, making objects of beauty, but her surroundings were simple.

I know I told you that you could have gran's crochet hooks, but Prudence, the truth is, when I held that tin and looked at the contents - every memory of her seemed to be held in that tin and those hooks.  The emotions run deep each time I hold that tin.

So forgive me, Prudence, but you will be the beneficiary of that tin, one day.  But not this day.  And when you do hold them in your hands, maybe it will also contain my crochet hooks and paraphenalia.  Perhaps as you hold it you will feel the connection to the life blood of past generations, as I did.

Prudence, I am starting this journey again, so that you will have a connection.  So that you will have reminders of where the truly important things are.

Some things were never meant to be lost.

Love
Mum.



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