Today was a really beautiful day. I went to see Momma and at first I was just dreading the drive because of the long week I have had and how tired I am from it. But as I started down the road I saw how blue the sky was and the temperature outside was about 80 degrees. Summer is just around the corner. It was so relaxing taking this drive down to T-town.
We had a great time. We went out to eat and then came back to her house. Talladega Speedway was hosting the NASCAR race so that was tuned in to the TV. This is a big race and I love to watch racing. I did exactly what I always do when a race is on. I watch the first 30 minutes, fall asleep without realizing it, and wake up just in time to see the end of the race.
It was really a very peaceful day. I got some cool stuff at Momma's too. Two bags of canned goods that I plan to make a quick soup out of tomorrow. A new blouse that is really cute, a Mother-in-Law tongue plant that mother re-potted for me. And last but certainly not least a bookshelf. Not just any bookshelf either. This bookshelf belonged to my Grandmother. It is not an expensive piece and not necessarily the most beautiful bookshelf. It is black with gold trim and it is metal. I know, metal. But it is the memory behind the bookshelf that makes it so special.
Grandmother had that shelf for as long as I can remember. She had it packed full of figurines and what-nots. Not any special theme to it, just lots of stuff. I was totally fascinated by it. Almost every time I went over here I would spend time picking up everything and looking at it. I would even dust it as an excuse to look at everything and play with everything. I loved everything about what was on that shelf. To this day I can remember almost everything that lived on that shelf. I also remember that Grandmother (we called her Maw Maw) never told me I couldnt play with those things on that shelf, even though everything on that shelf could be broken or lost.
Now the shelf is mine. Mine to put what I want on it. Mine to have and look at and remember something that was so simple when I was little, at the same time so special. Because if it hadnt been special, I wouldnt remember it.
Sometimes a bookshelf isnt just a bookshelf.