“What exists, exists so that it can be lost and become precious.”
~ Lisel Muller ~
Earlier this week, I found myself standing in the kitchen of my grandmother’s house. I grew up next door to her and spent countless hours with her there. When my grandmother died, her house was sold and the new owners renovated the house. What now stands on that corner is almost unrecognizable, both inside and out. It was a bit surreal to be in a place that was once so familiar but is now utterly foreign. Right after this experience, I came across the above quote on The Marginalia (formerly Brain Pickings) and this Golden Shovel basically wrote itself.
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Reading to the Core 
A similar thing happened to my grandmother’s house in Hawaii . Spent tons of time there growing up, and now it looks entirely different. Luckily both of us can still see these houses in our mind’s eye. Lovely poem!
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Beautiful, Catherine – I know what you’re experincing, as I had to clean out my parents’ house – the house I grew up in – when they moved to a nursing home. Seeing it completely empty, right before the sale, made me feel empty, as well.
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[…] do you do when a home you love…is no longer recognizable? Catherine Flynn explores that difficult situation with an original […]
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Your sugar bowl is now mine. I love the image of this. The years and how everything changes.
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Beautiful, Catherine. I love how you spoke of birds and seed and then wove in those “scattered contents.” You’ve captured your experience here but also transcended it. “chipped and precious” indeed.
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You were brave to go back to a much-changed place you once loved. Perfect quote, and your poem captures the pain of the loss but also (as the quote reminds) the precious remaining memories and artifacts. I would never go back inside my childhood home, but I visit regularly when I need to fall asleep, walking through the rooms and visualizing every detail.
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Catherine, your golden shovel and photo of your grandmother’s house conjure us lovely memories for me, as well. I love that sugar bowl–“chipped and precious.”
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I love that you know that kitchen so well, no matter the real change, “it still exists” in your heart & the sugar bowl that you prize. I guess we all have such memories we hold dear. I still walk around my home of 40 years that I left nearly ten years ago. It’s so often sad but also wonderful to be able to return. This is a lovely example of that, Catherine. Thank you!
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Oof. Catherine, yes–you were gifted with a lost precious thing, with a heavy faceted sugar bowl of a poem, chipped and sweet. This could not be any better, my friend. My heart aches along with yours.
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Such a beautiful poem. The image of the sugar bowl is stunning, And the house, sweet memories.
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