Day One Hundred Eighteen: April 27
These were my grandma’s candelabras. I got them down out of her attic in May 2004 when I was on some leave between finishing college and starting my first tour of duty in Iraq. One of them was broken completely in half, and both were so badly tarnished that you could barely tell they were silver. The candelabras lived in every dwelling I have; from my first hovel in Virginia Beach to a nicer seaside two-bedroom just a quarter mile from the ocean, to a rented house in Northern Virginia, and finally now to the home we own. The fixed one stood lopsided sentinel over family holiday dinners, while the broken one was put away in a box brought out only when it was time to move yet again. Finally after more than six years, I got my act together and sent the broken one to the silversmith to have it repaired.
The lady from Virginia Silversmiths of Lynchburg called me at work one afternoon not long after “Are these insured?!?” … “Um, no, I don’t think so…” I mumbled. “Well, they need to be!”. I asked how much she would insure them for. She quoted me a figure. I won’t repeat it here, but let’s just say I had my very own Antiques Roadshow moment.
While out shopping today, Mommy bought new candles to go in them. We’re celebrating J’s baptism on Sunday. My mom and dad are in town. That’s our wedding portrait in the middle of the two. Grandma was there with us, by the sea, in July 2005. She no longer lives in her home of fifty years, but instead in an Alzheimer’s care facility near Atlanta. We’ll light the candles on Sunday afternoon as we celebrate with friends and family. I hope grandma smiles to know we’re thinking of her, too.