I remember Love....

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I went to an antique, rummage type sale at the community Temple.  A basement full of dishes, candlesticks, old records and lots of vintage costume jewelry.  I loved it all.  Since the house is jammed full of things that I LOVE...  I have taken to only buying things I intend to give away.  It doesnt mean I love these items any less, it just means I LOVE them so much I have committed them to someone else, as soon as I buy it.
I think this makes me love them even more, they have to speak to me, move me, or appear to already belong to someone else before I will take them home.  I walked into the Temple, and having never been inside before thinking about a whole bunch of things.
 I have been reading alot of books lately concerning world War II. 
The Book Thief
Once We Were Brothers
Those Who Save Us
Monuments Men
The Bakers Daughter
The Lost Wife
Sarah Key
So I entered with the families from my books written on the faces of the men and women in the basement of the Temple. 
Could these families have ties to the losses and tragedies of that horiffic time in this planets history?
Undoubtedly.
I walked the short aisles of "stuff" and imagined these things coming to my home.
That painting?  Those candlesticks?  These teacups?  This necklace, brooch, ring?
Nah.
A table at one end of a row with a beautiful blonde woman.  I couldnt tell how old she was, she was so well maintained.  Anywhere from 65 to 85.  truly.
Her items were a real mishmash of STUFF.
Purses, jewelry, oil paintings, dolls, dishes, a few watering cans?
I saw a pair of needlepoint framed works.  They looked from about the 50's with a boy and girl in period clothing.  Handmade obviously but very well framed.  As I moved the needlepoints out of the way I saw the gold frame in the pile.
Then uncovered the pressed flowers.
It is in an 8 x 10 frame and very well mounted.  I asked the women what she knew about them.
"Well, lets see?  I bought that about 15 years ago at an estate sale.  The home was an elderly woman that passed away and her family cleaned out the house and whatever they left behind we could bid and buy as sellers.  These flowers were not in this frame.  They were simply pressed under glass but pasted to the paper you see here.  I reframed it about three four years ago and here it is."
Then she turned away rearranging her purses and watering cans.?
I picked them up and looked at the different flowers I could identify.
pansies, daisy's, black eyed susans, small ferns, butter cups, morning glories.  and of course many others I have no idea.
If you look closely you can see that there are small pieces, very small pieces, petals, glued to the perimeter of the main bouquet.
This was a labor of love for someone.
But why?  What was the LOVE?  A first date walk in a meadow?  an afternoon walk alone?
Was it from a wedding arrangement, a brides bouquet? funeral flowers?
Whatever the reason, they were important.  Love was there.  Alot of LOVE was there.
I WANTED THAT LOVE.
I COULD BUY THAT LOVE, AND BRING IT HOME.
I was not looking my best yesterday, this was an impromptu get out of the house, to run to the drug store, bank and stumbled upon the sale.
The woman didn't seem to mind I looked UNDONE.
We chatted a little bit, there weren't any pricetags on anything at her table.
I had  purchased a small brooch at the table before and spent 6 dollars of my 20.  I had 14 bucks left.
Surely this was more than that since the frame itself was worth that.
As I admired it, I asked her perfectly pulled and tucked face, how much?
Ahhh "I've had it a while, how about 8 dollars?"
I almost felt embarassed, Thats all I thought.
"Sold"  "These beauties have a home with me now!"
She smiled and I saw her eyes crinkle a bit, her teeth abit too white, her hair a smidge too blond.
But she smiled anyway at my apparent reverence for someones pressed memories in glass.
So..
Long story LONG...
Some lost day, love affair, broken heart, made evidenced by this collection of wildflowers is now a member of my family.
I dont know who she will belong to.  One of my girls.  Or Jack-for his wife someday.
A reminder that, no matter how long ago, how far away, love never ends.
Love can be universal, understood no matter the language, location, religion.
I found this collection and held her close to my chest, brought them home and told her how beautiful she was.
I told her out loud... in my kitchen....
"I remember LOVE, dont worry... you are safe with me."

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