February Focus: Day Twelve
One thing I always love to do on vacation is go antiquing. It’s usually the last stop on my activities list. Today was no different. I went to five different locations, only two were open. But I still got a pretty good haul, involving some knick-knacks and framed photos, as well as some Vermont-centric gifts for my dad. I may have overbought, and I wonder exactly where I’m going to fit all this new stuff, but that’s the game when you’re on a mission to relic hunt.
There’s something just so satisfying about walking into an antique store; the endless possibilities of a diamond in the rough just waiting for me to spot it. All the items are grouped together by theme for easy access. The stores always seem to become a labyrinth of items one can’t see in full with just one pass. I love the eccentric folks who run things who are always up for a conversation about their discoveries. It’s a unique hobby, even if it makes me an old lady to partake.
My mom used to take me to antique shops as a kid. She was more so a window shopper, as she rarely walked away with any items. I do things differently. I always try to leave with at least something that jumps out at me, even if it’s a small five-dollar tchotchke I can stick on a shelf somewhere. I want to at least have a physical manifestation of the area I visited, but it’s also about bringing new life into someone else’s one-time treasure. I one time purchased a hollow book from an antique shop on Etsy, and the note the woman left inside was, “I hope you love your new book.” Couldn’t have summed it up more perfectly than that.
As my father and I continue to clean out the house, we run into all sorts of things my mom saved over the years. All she owned becomes ours. And much of her curio collection has now made it into my home as well. It feels more important than ever for me to preserve the past for the future generation, while enjoying it myself in the present. One day I’ll have to tell my kids who their grandmother was, and what made her so special. It’s not about the things, it’s about what they represent, and how they paint a picture of what she was about.
I’m hoping that when the time comes, my future generation will take the same care with my items, and that our styles are lined up enough that they won’t just end up as junk. Just as long as everything has a place. I need not have my home look like a shop.
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