A Gift from My Father
This post is my contribution for this week's edition of Monday Memories...
My father wasn't brought up in a family that outwardly showed affection, nor was my mother, so it wasn't much a part our lives growing up either. We knew without a doubt that our parents loved us, it just wasn't put into so many words, or conveyed with hugs and such. My mother showed her love in the way she took care of us, and the way she made birthdays and holidays special times to remember.
My father provided a good life for us as a business owner in the rural community where we lived. Every now and then he would go out of town for a day or two to a regional meeting or some such activity. While he was away we enjoyed liberties like having breakfast waffles for supper, or pizza... things he wouldn't have wanted to come home and find on the table after a long day at work. Dad was strictly a meat and potatoes guy.
Sometimes but not always, when Dad returned he would bring small gifts for each of us. I remember tiny cedar boxes that smelled wonderful inside, little sampler boxes of Whitman's chocolates just like the big box he gave Mom on Valentines Day, inexpensive jewelry, and such. But one gift stand out in my mind as exceptional, from the moment I first laid my eyes on it, it charmed me...
I don't remember what my sisters got, but Dad handed me a beautiful wind chime with three brightly colored metal bands from which hung small diamond shaped pieces of glass. Each piece of glass was painted with Oriental calligraphy and was suspended from the frame on bright lengths of colored thread. I hung it on a hook in front of my upstairs bedroom window, and whenever the breeze would blow the glass chimes would tinkle with the most beautiful sounds. I fell asleep to this sound at night and woke to it in the mornings, as this was long before the days of air-conditioned rooms and closed windows. If a storm came in, I would be awakened by the sounds of glass jangling more loudly and a jumble of strings to gently untangle when I rescued it.
The wind chime hung in my bedroom window for many years, the colors faded, the strings grew worn and brittle, and still most of the little glass diamond shapes held on. I don't remember how it finally met it's end, I'm guessing that it fell apart and was replaced by signs and symbols of the 60's as I moved into my teen years.
In my mind I can still see the lovely wind chime. I've looked high and low for a similar one since, and my daughter has given me a lovely one of metal and glass prisms. Still I miss the one my Father gave me, and I would love to hear it's glass making music in the wind one more time!
( Note: Monday Memories is a writing prompt blog, and a place for people to share their memories. Why don't you write down a memory from your life and share it with us there. It doesn't have to be done on Monday, any day of the week is fine!)