Handkercheifs

I have been working my way through a creative writing course lately, and some of what I write seems appropriate for this blog. I am surprised how much of my writing concerns my family history, or my own history. Here is a sample:



Full Circle

They are only pieces of cloth—small squares of fabric printed bright primary colors that delighted the heart of the child I was. My favorites show dainty fairy folk going about their dainty fairy business dressed in leaves and buds while their ladybug pets look on. These little handkerchiefs have always been part of my life—bits of a past in another country that seems so far away that it might as well be in fairyland too. I gathered them up and hoarded them in my storage boxes, treasured in closets, under beds, or wherever there was space as I grew up, left home, and had children of my own. Perhaps, one day, I'll make them into a quilt, I would dream, as they lay hidden, silent, in the dark.

Eventually, I became a Grandma, “Oma” to my sweet newlings so my German roots can help them distinguish me from their other people. I watch my own mother more carefully—Mutti is a stranger to me—a keeper of secrets and holder of my past. Even from three states away I see courage that I never recognized now that she is alone and has no one to defer to. I have not known her, but I see her in me and I want to know who she is. I surprised her by persisting in asking her to write her story, and she surprised me by agreeing. She says this helps fill her time, and I think she is pleased. She is taking a writing class at the Senior Center, and we talk. We talk more than we ever have before.

So it was that without prompting Mutti told me the story of my handkerchiefs. She used to hang them on the clothesline when I was little and I would watch them fluttering in the breeze. They were given to me by her Oma. Her grandmother? Suddenly, new sprung from family legend, this lady who has no place in my memories came into my life. My circle of love expanded. I have presents from my great-grandmother! They have been gifted to me twice! My cherished handkerchiefs speak at last, and will have a place of honor on my walls.