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Three Pitchers

We sold Mom’s beautiful home last week – the place where she lived for 24 years. All her lovely plants, flowers and books have been dispersed, each of us three taking our very favorite things. Our children took their mementos too. So many things had a sweet memory attached to it. There was no strife or argument – whoever had the deepest connection, claimed the item. Underneath, we know they are just things. She, however, was irreplaceable.
I bought the three pitchers for her when she spied them in an antique shop. The year was 1990 and I could ill-afford them. I purchased them on timed payments from a very cranky shop owner. In the end, he gruffly wrapped them nicely in Christmas paper and made sure they were ready the day before the holiday as I requested. Mom was surprised and touched. She filled them with flowers whenever she could. Once she made me stop at the side of the road because she spotted some ridiculous wild fronds that she thought would look nice in them. She was right. Naturally the pitchers came home with me…

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