As you may recall, we were in Savannah a few weeks ago, readying my mother-in-law's home for a new owner.
It took several bittersweet days.
Betty loved her home and filled it with lovely things in the 20 years that she lived there. It took some time to figure out what needed to go where, particularly as she was one to keep things tucked throughout her beautiful home.
She had even saved a letter I wrote to her and my father-in-law in 1980 when I married their son, detailing what their friends had sent to us as wedding gifts.
("Gosh, Mom," our daughter later observed. "You typed this on a typewriter.")
(I am, if nothing, quaint.)
In the kitchen, there was a drawer filled with unused 35 mm film. While Betty was a keen traveler and had amassed (I am not making this up) thousands of photographs, there was one roll that had yet to be processed.
I dropped it this week at Walgreen's.
This is what popped up:
I'd guess Carcassone in France, except I think the sign on the left is in Italian. (Aren't crenellations great? Another fancy we shared in common.)
There were a few more photos in the crenellated vein, and then there began a new photo stream:
Christmas. At our old house. In 1995. (I had to check my albums to pinpoint the year.) That's 17 Christmases ago.
We were in braces and flannel then, with more hair, fewer pounds and a passion for American Girl dolls, precision skating, horseback riding and dog-themed clothes. All the excesses and possibilities of Christmas under an artificial tree that fell down a week before this photograph was taken.
(There appears to be a marijuana plant in the foreground, which has me completely flummoxed. I have no memory of this.)
What I do remember is a luxurious morning of laughter and gifts and cinnamon rolls and non-stop chatter.
It's nice to look back, especially since we looked pretty good back then.
Thanks for the memories, Betty. Then, and now.
Naperville Now participates each week in Mrs. Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday. See what other Alphabetarians are writing about here.