Eyelash Yarn
I'm very much a "thing" person. Holding, using, seeing a "thing" brings up vivid memories. I once stole a fork from a pub in Scotland much to my son's horror. (I made him shove a giant menu in his oversized army jacket from the same pub. It's framed on the wall in the kitchen.) Forever after, when one of us would reach into the silverware drawer and grab The Fork, we’d have a vivid memory of the classic pub, the Stone Goose Inn, with the giant waiter and the ridiculously reasonable price for a dram of Dalwhinnie single malt scotch. We've since lost the fork but the memory lives. Just not the same, not as vivid. I have very few things of my mom's, sadly. I wasn't ready to go through her things. I didn't know I wasn't ready, I thought I didn't want to start taking things from her home and never stop. I wanted her apartment to stay that way forever. I didn't know I'd feel differently later. There was no later. It was all go...