I took my clearing out to a new level this week. I am averse to clutter but not to sentimentality. I had a few items of my mother’s tucked away in a drawer. I think of all the things we gave away when she died, and I wonder why I saved these three things. Yesterday, I set them out to donate to a vintage store in town.

Opening the drawer allowed the sweetness of that memory to envelop me. My mother’s evening bag, nylons and a linen hankie remind me of her special evenings out with my dad. I can smell her Tigress cologne and see her putting her lipstick in her evening bag along with her linen hankie. She has opened a new box of Hanes seamless stockings and begins carefully gathering them as she slips her foot in and connects them to her garter belt. Her make-up is perfect. Her chestnut shoulder-length hair is curled, and I know I have the most beautiful mom ever. My dad looks at her admiringly, dressed in his tuxedo. My sister and I watch them go out the door as the babysitter reminds us that it’s almost time for bed.

Our memories are funny things. They are like fine chocolate, something we love to savor. Delicious!