Grandma painted that film reel container with elevator paint. Grandpa was the agent for National elevators, and large pails of that paint must have been a perk of the job. Everything from cookie containers to the basement floor and cement patio at their home was "elevator red". Almost everything else was pink!
I love tradition and ached for it growing up. I think my mother longed for normalcy’s and confused that with tradition. It makes sense the way she was raised. I thank my mother for doing better than she had, starting the stitch that could be carried forward and tied off at the end. Your words really bring this reflection into perspective. Much gratitude to you friend 🙏🏻
Thank you so much for sharing this. What you named about longing, inheritance, and your mother “starting the stitch” is so moving. It feels like such an honest honoring. I’m grateful you trusted this space with something so tender.
Also, I love mince tarts too, 🥰.
Grandma painted that film reel container with elevator paint. Grandpa was the agent for National elevators, and large pails of that paint must have been a perk of the job. Everything from cookie containers to the basement floor and cement patio at their home was "elevator red". Almost everything else was pink!
I didn’t know it was elevator paint. I do remember her cement floor and patio.
I love tradition and ached for it growing up. I think my mother longed for normalcy’s and confused that with tradition. It makes sense the way she was raised. I thank my mother for doing better than she had, starting the stitch that could be carried forward and tied off at the end. Your words really bring this reflection into perspective. Much gratitude to you friend 🙏🏻
Thank you so much for sharing this. What you named about longing, inheritance, and your mother “starting the stitch” is so moving. It feels like such an honest honoring. I’m grateful you trusted this space with something so tender.