Every year, a few of us gather in the old “red room” of my great-grandma’s old house. We’re one of those lucky families who happen to be related to the people living in our great-grandparent’s old home, and though Aunt Cat let go of the “red room” carpet, we all still feel right at home. As I play Aunt Cat’s old piano, I can remember sitting in that same room years ago staring at my great-grandmother’s collection of porcelain shoes.
Oh, how I wanted one. Each time I’d ask for one -as children tend to do -she’d always give the same answer, “When I’m dead… you can have them.”
As a child -and as children tend to do -I mentally fist pumped. Her words brought me some kind of hope that SOMEDAY the shoes WOULD be mine. Of course when the day came that she did pass away, I didn’t think once about her shoes. A few weeks later, her daughter-in-law offered me my pick of her shoes, and I wanted so badly to get *just* the right one. I didn’t want to regret my choice.
I was 12 at the time and though a few years had passed since Nunna promised me her entire collection (which I’m sure she promised to most all of the grand kids who asked), I could vividly remember the thrill of the idea: owning one of her shoes.
I could grasp the sentimentality attached to the gleaming porcelain and knew that taking a shoe meant taking a piece of the red room with me for the rest of my own life. But which one?
I reached out and took her Christmas Shoe, and as I held it between my hands I resolved that though Nunna’s collection was being pieced out -as it should have been -I would one day have my own collection.
I never do put that shoe away -it stays out in display all the year ’round, just like Nunna kept it. During the Christmas season, I do give it front row seating in some place or another. This year it was on the piano. I think it feels more at home near a piano.
It gained two new friends this year, and here is one of them:
Danny bought that one for my stocking. It’s the second one he’s added this year alone. At Disneyland, I bought myself a Mary Poppins themed shoe and was so thrilled with it, but not as thrilled as I was with the shoe Danny gave me on our 10th anniversary (which we spent at Disneyland with the kiddos).
It was closing time, and I was putting a jacket on Alice in front of the carousel, near the sword in the stone, when I felt a tug on my pant leg. I turned around to find Danny on one knee, holding up a beautiful decorative pillow with a small box on top: the box contained a small glass Cinderella slipper. Here’s a picture of my shoes (shakin’ off dust -that’s why there’s so much of it) and you can see my Mary Poppins shoe right next to my Cinderella glass slipper:
A wonderful, unforgettable gift that touched me deeply.
It’s amazing how something so small can bring me back to that quiet red room. It isn’t quiet anymore -at least, not when we get together for our annual Christmas sing-off. Sing along? I don’t know… sing-off seems more appropriate.
I didn’t get many pictures, so I stole a few of Aunt Cat’s :)
I will never get tired of putting my Alice in Nunna-Alice’s things… and parlors.
Here she is kissing her “great JuJu” (great aunt Julie’s nickname coined by Lacy).
Aunt Cat brought a lot of bright and light into the old parlor, and it makes a cheery setting for us all.
And yes, this is Grandpa’s cheery face. Don’t let him fool you.
Though we all know Grandpa’s at his cheeriest when he’s reliving nap time on his Old Home Day Bed:
That man… he truly is the very best.
And now I’ll tell you how his wife and MY very own grandmother gave me a sleeve for Christmas.
Truth be told, I don’t think Grandma had any idea what she brought to the white elephant gift exchange… Aunt JuJu usually fixes her up with something classy. Like a tat sleeve.
That night we came home pretty festive with a few new hats, a few new toys, and a few good memories. All we missed were a few good people: those who helped build the beautiful parlor and those who have always helped fill it (here’s lookin’ at you, Steve).
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