Lost and Found

 

This is one of my favorite things.  It is an 18k gold Elgin lady's pocket watch that belonged to my great grandmother, Amalia. She immigrated from Poland, met her Polish husband in Kansas, and lived the American Dream.  My grandfather carried this watch when my dad was a little boy.  But one day he lost it.  It was missing for a long time.  Months. And then a child was kicking the leaves along the edge of the sidewalk in their little town and he found it.  Being a little town, everyone knew my grandad had been searching and searching for this watch and of course it was returned to him.  He promptly placed it in his safety deposit box at the bank and never again took it out.  At some point he went in there and put it in a small manilla envelope and wrote my name on it.  He gave it to me.

Now, I love old things.  I actually walk into antique stores and look at all the stuff and wonder why in the world people would get rid of it.  I know it's weird.  But I do.  So anyway, I really love this watch.

We travel alot and I often hide the few little valuable things I have in an unlikely place around the house so if, by chance, a thief came, they would never find it.  Problem is....I have more than once hid it so well that I can't find it.  For a long time.  Twice I've been convinced that I would never see it again.  My family absolutely could not believe that I had done it again.  But I did.  This last time it was actually with a few other pieces that belonged to my grandmother.  I felt so stupid.  Tore the house apart. Finally gave up.

Last week my son was looking for his dad's old guitar tuner.  He couldn't find it anywhere.  He looked and looked.  He walked up to me, held out a small jewelry box and said, "Is this what you've been looking for?  It was on top of Dad's bookcase!"

The watch is now in my safety deposit box at the bank.

Tears

As you know my eldest is eighteen years old. A senior in high school. Such an exciting time in life. Such possibilities. Such plans. Such aching in a mother's heart. I'm proud of him and happy for him and I can't wait to see where he ends up next year. I want him to go to college. Of course I do. But the thought of packing him up and dropping him off. Well, let's just say tears are never far away these days.

But last night we were all taken by surprise. He got a new guitar amp and he was playing guitar and letting his little brother (13) play too. They were having fun. Enjoying each other. Sister was in her room doing homework. DH and I were downstairs. We walked up the stairs and Little Brother was standing in the hallway, his face twisted up, his eyes closed. DH said, "Buddy, you've got to get to bed. You're exhausted." And then the tears came. Not just sniffles, Sobs. We wondered what in the world was wrong. Everything was so jolly a minute ago. But then he said, "I was just in Big Brother's room, playing guitar, and we were having fun together. And then I realized he's leaving soon!" Oh my. Much crying (I of course had to join him!) and many hugs later he went to bed. Big Brother responded very well, saying things like, "Oh we have a long time before I leave" and "But I'll be home to visit alot." But the reality settled down on our house like a cold fog. This distant future event that we all knew would someday come is upon us. This is Big Brother's last year at home.

Here's a picture of the kids as we were saying goodbye to Big Brother this summer before a mission trip. It was only 6 weeks. And yes, Little Brother had been crying then too.