So many little impressions flitter through this week after the fire that took my parents and brother and sister-in-law's house, as well as 508 other houses and uncounted outbuildings, barns and garages in the Colorado town of Black Forest.
My folks are holding up well, and so many people have been incredibly generous.
It is a huge, shocking total life change and that is showing in little and big ways.
I grew up in a family that loved to collect things. Beautiful, fascinating things from around the world.
My brother Russ (the one who still has his house) has several delightful collections displayed around his living room. Interesting things that are curiosities in themselves, but as a collection they draw interest. He inherited the collecting gene and the ability to do cool displays gene. That's a good combination.
My parents house was like that, with fascinating little collections in every corner. They were artfully displayed and kept clean and dusted. (There are some genes I failed to inherit). Now they are all gone. My dad says he doesn't want a lot of stuff to have to deal with anymore. Understandable.
The Quilt Room was the center of their house, and Quilt Guilds and Quilting Bees were the center of their social life. The loss there is too painful to even list. My dad says he's not sure if he wants to do fiber arts any longer.
Yesterday when we went clothes shopping for my folks, my dad bought a pair of sandals. He's never worn sandals before. He says they feel ok.
My mother has done laundry on Monday all her life. Her mother did laundry on Monday. That is the day you wash clothes. Today, I convinced her that it really was possible to do laundry on Sunday. And we did, though there weren't many clothes to wash.
As my dad said today, the memories didn't burn. The collections and pictures and other memory anchors did go up in the fire., but the memories and treasured relationships are still here.
My folks are holding up well, and so many people have been incredibly generous.
It is a huge, shocking total life change and that is showing in little and big ways.
I grew up in a family that loved to collect things. Beautiful, fascinating things from around the world.
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| A fascinating collection of meters at my brother Russ' house. |
My parents house was like that, with fascinating little collections in every corner. They were artfully displayed and kept clean and dusted. (There are some genes I failed to inherit). Now they are all gone. My dad says he doesn't want a lot of stuff to have to deal with anymore. Understandable.
The Quilt Room was the center of their house, and Quilt Guilds and Quilting Bees were the center of their social life. The loss there is too painful to even list. My dad says he's not sure if he wants to do fiber arts any longer.
Yesterday when we went clothes shopping for my folks, my dad bought a pair of sandals. He's never worn sandals before. He says they feel ok.
My mother has done laundry on Monday all her life. Her mother did laundry on Monday. That is the day you wash clothes. Today, I convinced her that it really was possible to do laundry on Sunday. And we did, though there weren't many clothes to wash.
As my dad said today, the memories didn't burn. The collections and pictures and other memory anchors did go up in the fire., but the memories and treasured relationships are still here.
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