Better With Age

Posted by Melissa Y. | July 21, 2009 | 16 Comments

small lilacs
Earlier this spring, I was driving a road outside my usual travel routine when I saw a stunning lilac hedge–a towering line so heavy with color and scent that I felt buried in glory.

Years ago, we planted a new lilac bush in our yard. It had only a few flower clusters the first year.

***

I have crystal glasses in my china hutch that belonged to my grandmother’s grandmother. Originally purchased over seventy years ago by a woman I’ve never met, they reign in sparkly elegance among my other dishes.

I look at them and wonder where she bought them and at what sacrifice, on what occasions they were used, whose lips they touched. They are more than pretty–they are a connection to people I don’t know. A relic of memories I don’t share.

***

Our dryer has broken, so I’m drying our laundry on the line. After years of feeling baffled when women would describe how they used to iron everything (sheets, t-shirts, jeans), I look at my hanging clothes and finally understand. Laundry that goes straight to the line from the washer, without the tumbling heat of a dryer, is wrinkly. I laugh at my ignorance, at how I could’ve thought that anyone would iron sheets for any reason other than crinkly necessity. And I smile in the warm peace of the sun and wind and slow rhythm of the clothespins. I get it, I think to myself.

***

My friend is trying to teach me tatting. The shuttle feels clumsy in my hand, and the movement is unnatural. But I keep trying, because the magic of turning bits of string into lace is so captivating. String is all you need–string and skill.

My knots are awkward and bumpy.

***

I’m standing in the one-room cabin where my grandmother’s grandmother (the one who later bought the crystal) was born. Her mother was blind–her sight lost to the perils of frontier life and lack of medicine. I scuff my shoe (white, man-made leather, poly-something soles) against the rough-hewn floorboards and try to imagine her life. The dirt, the isolation, the fear. I can’t make it real.

I look through the glassless window at the red hills outside. Several generations of my family were born here. The dust must have worked its way into their souls, because they are a colorful branch of the family. Their exploits and pranks have become mythic. If I tried hard enough, I wonder if I could hear their laughter and raucous singing echo from the red cliffs.

I close my eyes and try to feel my color, to draw up from the red dirt something that should already run in my blood–something beyond brown.

***

I live in a different world from my grandmother’s grandmother. From my grandmother. From my mother. Yet there is the dirt, the crystal, the stories, the string, to offer a sense of connection to the past. To the ones who made me, body and soul. Tangible and intangible, objects and routines, they all give glimpses into the life and lives of people who have nothing else left to speak for them. For all that is beguiling about newness, it’s the old things that capture me. The skill, the struggle, the sheer amount of time invested in everything from freshly pressed sheets to a tatted lace edging.

There are some things that only come with time. And as I stood at the lilac hedge, I found myself suddenly unafraid of age. I only have a few flowers now, but maybe, maybe, through time and grace, I will be heavy with glory.

Comments

16 Responses to “Better With Age”

Emily M.
July 21st, 2009 @ 8:16 am

Ah, this was so lovely, Melissa. We have been going through my grandparents’ things. I visited their empty house last night, for probably the last time. It is good to have tangible things that connect us to them. It makes me think of things as they really are…
Amanda
July 21st, 2009 @ 10:33 am

This is beautiful. It’s a stunning picture to imagine all of us going through this process, starting out as small and simple flowers and with age, becoming heavy with blossoms. It reminds me of how grateful I am for my mother and my grandmothers. They have so much to offer and teach me. And it gives me hope-that I’m still a work in progress.
Kerri
July 21st, 2009 @ 11:16 am

Really beautiful. What a gift, to find joy in aging, in gaining life’s experiences. I’m afraid our culture worships youth and novelty, and it’s hard to battle against that current.
Lucy
July 21st, 2009 @ 12:03 pm

I still prefer to hang clothes outside. I love doing it and to me it’s communing with outside. And I like to see them sway in the breeze.
Matt A.
July 21st, 2009 @ 12:47 pm

Beautiful. I sometimes wish I lived in an older part of the world, where the touch of people who have gone before lies heavy on the ground. It is amazing to think of them, that they had many of the same hopes, worries, and joys as we do today.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Melissa.
Janet
July 21st, 2009 @ 2:15 pm

A beautiful post. Thank you.
Merry Michelle
July 21st, 2009 @ 3:38 pm

Lovely.
traci
July 21st, 2009 @ 3:45 pm

Beautiful! I love old. My grandma died a few years ago and i miss her every single day!

All my flowering bushes are old fashioned and of the kind of my grandma and great grandmothers. Nothing beats them for me.

I have been tatting for years, and love it! It took me 3 teachers to get it. Then you got it forever! There are great sites on the internet of wonderful tatters. Start w/ Clyde the Mad Tatter. Once I even taught 23 people to tat in 3 hours – i said no one leaves till we tat!
There is a joy, simplicity and foundation of doing OLD CRAFTS!
Melissa
July 21st, 2009 @ 4:47 pm

traci, you give me hope! It’s been several years since I tried to learn how to tat, and I don’t remember anything. I’d really like to try again. Thanks for the references!
traci
July 21st, 2009 @ 5:37 pm

Your welcome – i would help anyone to tat – the best part of clyde the mad tatter is the links on the right – like tatting chick etc – - – My fav is http:bengelblog.blogspot.com – i believe she is from the netherlands and she shows and does 3 d tatting like carousels, trains, and nativity scenes.
traci
July 21st, 2009 @ 5:39 pm

http://bengelblog.blogspot.com

error above, i promise i will stop now, let me know anytime if you want more or help!
Michelle L.
July 21st, 2009 @ 8:15 pm

This post is so beautiful that I don’t know how to comment. What can I possibly add but thank you, thank you. And I love the phrase “heavy with glory.”
Leslie
July 21st, 2009 @ 8:59 pm

your words and images are beautiful melissa- and amen to the heavy with glory!
TattingChic
July 22nd, 2009 @ 7:31 am

What beautiful imagery! I enjoyed reading that. I too, love lilacs! I grew up in a home that had a backyard lined with gorgeous lilac bushes! Much too my delight (and my allergic brother’s dismay) every Spring the backyard was awash with their scent and color! They were torn out later as other family member’s allergies won out, too. Sniff…sniff…

That is wonderful that you are learning tatting! I have a tatting blog. If you’d like to come on over to my blog some time and see more tatting and meet other bloggers who tat, also!
jendoop
July 23rd, 2009 @ 8:02 am

Visiting Utah, where my parents grew up on farms, brings up similar feelings for me. I’m happy to be older and have memories to recall and places that feel a part of me.
Marjorie Conder
July 25th, 2009 @ 9:37 am

Another example of the “hearts of the children turn to their [mothers]“. Lovely!