Dear Carpenter,

Have you ever wondered what happened to your old tool box? Probably, you left it in the detached garage beside the first house you rented forty-five years ago.I wish I could ask if you made the box yourself and if it was always painted sage green.

You might be irked to know that I bought the odd antique at a garage sale for two dollars. The straight rod that formed the handle and fit in the holes at each end was broken and held in place with masking tape. I tried to fix it, but gave up and removed the handle altogether.

The lids were still hinged in place, so I folded them open before I filled the base with broken pottery pieces and covered those with potting soil. I filled it with purple petunias which have bloomed happily where once screw drivers, hammers, a hand drill, chisels, sand paper, and nails mingled.

I know you haven't forgotten this tool box. Surely, you set it aside with a bit of nostalgia when you purchased your first metal one to replace it. Maybe, you thought your grandchildren would like to see it someday. So you set it on the garage shelf where it collected up rolls of fishing line, random extra tools, and a 3-in-1 oil can. A mud dauber built a stucco apartment on the underside of the lid and it was forgotten.

Years later, someone cleaned junk from the garage and took it with a load of salvageables to the sale, where I saw it and invested two bucks in my love of the mysterious. Every antique has a story and a mystery. I can resist neither. So, I thank you for the fun and though you may be miffed at my turning your manly toolbox into a flower planter, you have to admit, it does a beautiful service.

Still Friends?
Elece

 

Dear Ronee,

Thank you for being such a close-as-family friend.  I know that at any time I could knock at your door and you wouldn't mind answering. I might be wrong, but with you I feel secure that you aren't pretending to be nice; you are nice for real. Last week, I felt lonely and sad, so I headed for your house. I knew you would be glad to welcome me in for a hug, a talk, a cup of comforting hot tea, and a cry if need be. Usually, we just have a nice visit, like a visit with one of my own sisters. 

We talk about our children, our schoolwork, our housework, our hobbies, and our social activities. We get all the latest news and views from each other. If I visit you in a dreary mood or in a cheerful mood, I find your ear ready to listen, your heart ready to understand, and your hand willing to do anything you can to help.

It does my heart good to see your children playing happily. Sarah let me take her picture on the swing she and her sisters had made. Joe gave me one of his sweet, no strings attached little boy hugs, which I needed. I love your children.

Every woman needs a friend like you to walk beside and to talk to. Alas, not all women have one. There are too few true friends on the earth to go around.

Love you, 

Elece

Other things may change us, but we start and end with the family. Anthony Brandy

Dear Mama,

Mother's Day is coming up and I was thinking about you even more than usual. When spring arrives and the flowers bloom, I recall Dad bringing you a huge bouquet of salmon pink gladiolas he had stopped and chosen from a local gardener. You put them in your tall gray pottery vase and set it in the sunlight in front of the picture window. It was spectacular!

When we lived in Michigan, you planted snapdragons and pansies in the flowerbeds along either side of the driveway. You have always been a flower lover. I know you would be thrilled to see the roses, irises, lilies and azaleas that I have blooming around my house now.

I have an old straw hat hanging on the wall that reminds me of you. I know you love straw hats, gardens, and the country life. You were an Oklahoma girl, growing up after the dust bowl years, the third eldest of a group of eight siblings. You loved farm life, riding horses, swimming in the creek, and walking in the fields. You loved your Uncle Stoney and Aunt Blanche from Tecumseh.

Be sure of the fact that I will be thinking of you next Sunday as we celebrate Mother's Day.

Love you,

Elece