It was to be expected that dividing my grandmother's belongings would cause tensions. How hard it is to not become spiteful when others demonstrate their greed or disrespect. And sure, I love antiques myself and have chosen a few objects. But none elicit the feeling in the pit of my stomach that I felt just now, handling a simple smooth stylised bird made of alabaster. An object I've only ever seen in the same spot in her living room underneath a lamp shade at every family gathering, suddenly in my hands again but in another house. It's purely visceral, my memories linked to such a small and insignificant object amidst all the rest, not just the visual recognition but also the sensation, one touch reminding me of all those times in the past when I was enchanted by its cool smoothness. |