Recently, these wooden, hand-carved miniatures came into my possession. For as long as I could remember, they had been in my mother’s kitchen.
And then they weren’t anymore. But a couple of years ago, I asked about them and discovered that they had been relocated to a shelf in the hallway. But to me, they were so much a part of the kitchen in the older home where we lived in my childhood that they came to be associated with my childhood.
When my mother passed away, my siblings and I were sorting through the sentimental objects and I chose these carved figurines—after I asked if anyone else wanted them.
Their response was unanimous. I could have the “scary people.”
So there it is. One person’s sentimental old couple, hand-carved by an unnamed family relative, is the next person’s “scary people.”
I got a chuckle out of this. And then promptly took them home and placed them on top of my stove. Where I can remember them being in my mother’s kitchen so long ago.