These are two very precious objects to me. One is a (by now) threadbare silk cushion, dark grey, in a damask design. My daughter gave it to me, for my birthday or maybe at Christmas, when we had not lived in this house for very long and I was busy trying to make it into a comfortable and reasonably stylish home for us both. She was still at school, with limited funds of her own. I believe she bought it in Salts Mill. I was thrilled with it, both because she had taken the initiative to buy it for me and because it was beautiful and exactly complemented my bedroom decor. It has had pride of place on my bed ever since, for more than twenty years. Every time I’ve picked it up I have thought of my darling girl with so much love. It has kept her close. The cushion cover has, sadly, grown more and more fragile, as light (I suppose) has weakened its silk fibres. I’ve decided the time has come to throw it away, as the gaping tears can no longer be hidden or repaired. No matter, really, as what it represents is hidden away in my heart for all time, like a tiny, warm flame of light and love. I did, however, want to preserve at least some record of the cushion, so a photograph and a blog post will keep the memory alive.
The second object in my picture is a soft, grey cat. It may be ‘Mog’, beloved of Judith Kerr’s children’s stories, or maybe just a similar lookalike. It has been in my possession for a much shorter time, and also habitually sits on my bed. It belonged originally to my youngest granddaughter, who brought it with her on one of the first visits she made here after the long initial period of Covid lockdown, when everything was feeling strange and discomforting, and we’d been kept apart as a family just when we’d have wanted to be together. M gave it to me as soon as she walked in my door, but I thought little of the gesture really, as she’s a child who always carries some soft toy or other - lately a sloth with long limbs but often a puppy dog or a small teddy. She has a huge collection of cuddly comforters. I thought it was her ‘animal of the day’. When time came for them to leave, I offered it back to her but she told me: ‘That’s for you, Gwan, to keep.’ My heart nearly burst. Here was my lovely granddaughter, for whom stuffed toys are the highest form of currency. She, barely seven at the time and yet as intuitively empathic as anyone I know, realised I might be feeling isolated and this was her remedy. Happily, it has worked. Every time I see it I feel a little warm glow. When I have my daily ten minutes quiet time (while my warm eye mask works its magic on my dry eyes!) I give it a little cuddle and count my blessings.
As I say, two precious objects and a great deal of love. ❤️❤️
