My family heirloom stories seem to be growing as I get older. There are so many things that are being returned to me or rediscovered now. I think people stuff special bits and pieces of the life away in order to preserve it. However, there comes a point when making it a part of every day is more important. That is the case with my great-grandmother’s pencils.
Childhood Memories that lead to family heirloom stories
When I was a child, my favourite pastime during Summers at my grandmother’s house was to go through her drawers. They were packed with beautiful treasures from all over the world, as well as from generations of my Polish family.
I turned 8 and she gifted me with two of my great grandmother’s mechanical pencils. I loved them beyond measure and wrote every day with them until the lead ran out. Then, they sat, nothing more than trinkets of the past.
Until today.
Finding Comfort in Memories.
In a few days, we will honour the fourth year since my mother’s passing. I have struggled deeply in my relationship with her before and after her death. It follows that I might struggle less now, but really it means that I need to get down to the business of healing. Taking out the old boxes and sorting through them matters.
This past year, the work my brother and I have done to reclaim our roots, heal generational wounds, and pull ourselves out of shadow has transformed that struggle into understanding and my own ability to step beyond what was never spoken between her and myself in life.
These pencils, tools of the storyteller I never knew, surfaced today without explanation at a moment when I required a provocative sign. Could this family heirloom tell stories of its own? From there, I understood what my mother and the women before her had waited nearly 50 years for me to hear.
Magic is always with you—even when it lays dormant until you are ready for it.