I love old things, vintage, or just plain worn out. I adore quilts, and crocheted dishcloths, and handmade Christmas ornaments, and old postcards. I love items that hold a story. In particular, I cherish old photographs. When thrifting, if I come across an old photo album or loose photos, I hesitate. I don't ever buy them, at least I haven't yet (!) but I am somehow sad for them, as I think of them being lost or forgotten.
So, as a result, I save almost every photo. This one, with blue ballpoint pen scribbling (from a younger version of me) certainly will never be thrown out. Because blue ballpoint and footie pajamas included, this photograph I love. Perhaps because it represents a time period when things in my mind were simple, and dependable. Life felt secure, I was taken care of and my biggest concern was likely what kind of ice cream to pick at Dairy Queen with them the next day. And when I look at this photo, the tiny bits of daily life are shown, and that sums up what is real to me. Old, worn, plastic-toed footie pajamas. His old thermos on the counter, ready to be washed- which now lives in my kitchen. Old plastic margarine tubs in the dishwasher because of course, those were good for a lot of purposes! The same dishes used for decades. A terrible quality but invaluable photograph that shows a sliver of my life.
I spent a lot of time at this house. Of course had my own home, actually just down the road a bit. But my grandparents were always a part of my life, on a regular, footie-pajama, dishwasher-unloading basis.