Today's blog celebrates my mother's old hope chest, which is 100 years old this year. She was given this chest when she turned 16, and little did she know then of the ten children she would raise, or of the many grandchildren and great grandchildren that followed. I admit, I am currently behind in the count.
I was surprised that no one else in the family wanted her hope chest. As furniture goes, I suppose it shouldn't have been a surprise. It is anything but pristine. I remember it sitting in our upstairs, full of blankets and quilts. We sat on it, stood on it as a stage when giving a play, and probably used it as a barrier during rubber band wars. The scratches and dings remind me of our life together, and I view them warmly.
Today the chest holds a quilt made by Mama's mother, Grace Pierce. Hand stitched, it is a beautiful lone star quilt which was once on my wall but is now a bit lumpy and needs rest. It also holds some weavings that I made years ago, some hats and mittens, and a flag or two. The beauty of the chest, however, is that it prompts memories. One hundred years of memories.
Hope Chest
