June 12--David Roentgen--Cylinder-Fall Desk with Cabinet Top. Lots of letters have been written at this desk. Minna's desk. When I was a little girl Minna was on old woman, stooped, gray-haired, and she walked with a cane, but I remembered her sitting there in the morning light reading letters and writing them. She talked to those letters as if the person were there before her. That paper and pen were every bit as alive as email or texting is today. When I came into the room Minna would pull out the lowest drawer, hand me a lined pad and a nice sharp pencil, and tell me to write someone a letter. I wrote to my dog, my teddy bear, to Mama, and once to a particularly pretty fish that Daddy had caught, but I don't remember ever writing to Minna. I should have. She was the one who taught me the value of putting pen to paper. I write at her desk quite often...
After that there are only scribbles since that's when the sandman ambushed me and sent me sliding down the slippery slope to dreamland. I did manage to pry my eyes open to put my pencil, notebook, and glasses aside but that was all she wrote. (har) Enjoy your day. Kiss someone on the cheek even if they don't think they need it. Time to get my day started. I have no soup for lunches this week so I have to make a sandwich. Horrors. There will be soup-making on the weekend, never fear.
--Barbara
1 comment:
Just on the cheek? Where's the fun in that?
Glad Dad's feeling better!
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