Of course I have female relatives who’ve passed who would more traditionally fit the description of disir. They’re not the only ones I feel a certain attachment and obligation to, however.
I went to an estate sale this past weekend and came home with three glasses designed as go-alongs to Corningware’s Country Festival pattern. (This is a secondary pattern to Spice O Life, but one I have a few pieces of already.) As I unwrapped them from their paper and peeled off the estate sale price tags, I whispered thank you and promises to take good care of them.
I got the sense it was appreciated.
In a way, each time I go to a sale like this and bring home glasses or napkins or Pyrex or Corningware, I’m bringing home something that was important to these women. Maybe more or less important – at another estate sale we picked up some well-loved kitchen knives and a lovingly-seasoned wok, as well as some towels. I’d imagine there’s a lot more of her in the wok than in the towels. I often get that feeling from estate sales in a way I don’t from garage or yard sales.
These things were loved. Now I get to love them, in my admittedly hipster way. I think of the Lady of the Mushrooms when I’m using the mushroom pot. A few weeks ago it was an estate sale full of Winnie the Pooh merchandise – I have thought of the Lady of the Hundred Acre Woods several times since. I will think of the Mother of Tuxedo Cats when I use the Country Festival glasses.
Hail to the women who came before! Hail to the ladies of the sales!