![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Aug. 13th, 2025 07:09 am
Literally, stuff.
I moved back from Florida this March with a Pod full of stuff. About half of it was from my parents' house, the other half was vintage goodies I had found while I was there for 4 months. It took about a month to get it all unpacked (although I just realized there are about 4-5 boxes in the garage I forgot about).
It is both comforting and depressing to see some of my parents' things around the house. They catch me off-guard sometimes, like when I started crying at my dad's favorite ice cream scoop yesterday. They had many, many smartly functional items that I kept for myself, especially for the kitchen. As sad as they make me sometimes, I also admire their ingenuity, and appreciate that both my parents were good shoppers who knew how to find items that helped them live their lives more easily. Sure, they balked at my buying them a rollerator and wheelchair (until they realized how much it helped them get around the house), but they weren't stubborn about everything.
( Here are some of the things I incorporated into my house from theirs: )
It's funny, I started taking this inventory yesterday because I moved a book my dad gave me a few years ago so it was on the top of the TV shelf. Both of my parents gave me me many things over the years, stuff of theirs they knew I would appreciate (Mom always called me the sentimental one) or gifts they wanted to give me to celebrate occasions. Like the maple tree they bought for the backyard of our new house, or the Yale dining hall chairs Dad gave me when they moved to Florida. So my house was already a blend of my and their stuff well before I brought the Pod home.
Anyway, the funny part is that my husband noticed the book move. "The Encyclopedia of Gardening," he said quietly. "I look over at that one at least once a week. Your dad gave you that." He nodded at the new display; the book now sits under a big vintage planter of succulents. "I like it up there."
Me too.
(I should do a reel or IG post of pictures too. Hmmm.)
It is both comforting and depressing to see some of my parents' things around the house. They catch me off-guard sometimes, like when I started crying at my dad's favorite ice cream scoop yesterday. They had many, many smartly functional items that I kept for myself, especially for the kitchen. As sad as they make me sometimes, I also admire their ingenuity, and appreciate that both my parents were good shoppers who knew how to find items that helped them live their lives more easily. Sure, they balked at my buying them a rollerator and wheelchair (until they realized how much it helped them get around the house), but they weren't stubborn about everything.
( Here are some of the things I incorporated into my house from theirs: )
It's funny, I started taking this inventory yesterday because I moved a book my dad gave me a few years ago so it was on the top of the TV shelf. Both of my parents gave me me many things over the years, stuff of theirs they knew I would appreciate (Mom always called me the sentimental one) or gifts they wanted to give me to celebrate occasions. Like the maple tree they bought for the backyard of our new house, or the Yale dining hall chairs Dad gave me when they moved to Florida. So my house was already a blend of my and their stuff well before I brought the Pod home.
Anyway, the funny part is that my husband noticed the book move. "The Encyclopedia of Gardening," he said quietly. "I look over at that one at least once a week. Your dad gave you that." He nodded at the new display; the book now sits under a big vintage planter of succulents. "I like it up there."
Me too.
(I should do a reel or IG post of pictures too. Hmmm.)