grandma & lukie, august 2010
My grandmother is 93. She recently broke her hip. As she's been in the hospital, I keep thinking how unhappy she must be not to be home. I don't that she misses the small condo she shares with my grandfather now that they are in their 90s, but I imagine she misses HER home - the olive-green cape she created to raise her family, the one she decorated vigilantly, and filled with her handicraft. I've been day dreaming about all the time I spent in her house growing up, with a lot of design nostalgia.
Her home was filled with braided rugs and flowery china pieces. Lots of floral chints curtains, handmade afgans, colored glass lamps not necessarily from Tiffany and friendly little figurines (everywhere) which, if they lacked in extravagance, they made up in homespun charm. She taught me that to have your own home was quite a priveledge, and you revel in that gift, especially as a woman, by making it as beautiful, interesting and clean (ugh, that part I learn begrudingly) as you can. These things remind me of her. Thanks etsy.
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