Myrle Johnson

The countdown to moving is very real now. Operation: Throwaway is in full swing.

Through the sifting and chucking of it all, I came across the same small brown shipping box that I always do when we move. The same thought process enters as I think about the fact that I haven’t done anything with its contents, but that I can’t throw it away.

This small box was sent to us as a wedding gift. It holds a beautiful vintage china tea cup – the saucer completely shattered, but the cup still intact. How it was broken is whole other story.

To this day, the tea cup and shattered saucer have moved from one apartment to another since the beginning of marriage – never to leave the box, only to be placed in a closet until the next time we move. One might think you’d either fix it or do away with it…the thing is it is too broken to really fix and well, I can’t seem to part with it.

The gift was from an elderly woman by the name of, Eva Myrle Johnson, who has since passed. She was an older friend of my grandparents. My grandpa would frequent her home to help her with yard work, shovel snow throughout the winter or address any repairs she needed around the house. She came over for Thanksgiving and other holidays occasionally since I don't think her family lived close.

I remember going over to her house with my Grandpa and being intimidated by this older woman who moved slowly from one room to another with her old, loud, clunky, walker that seemed to get caught in all of the doorways. We always seemed to bring along my dog, Molly, to her house and I was convinced that Myrle was more partial to the dog than me…which wasn’t true, she just loved dogs.

As a ten year old, I remember thinking her house smelled and looked like an “old person” house which didn’t appeal to me – what do ten year olds know?! In actuality, she lived in what I remember to be a beautiful, turn-of-the-century home filled with lots of character that I would now appreciate.

Today, my eyes well up and my heart fills with disappointment at the thought that I hadn’t known this woman as well as I could have. I find myself wishing that I would have been mature and interested enough in my youth to take the time to listen to her stories, to ask her how to make her amazing hot fudge or rice pudding or to just be content sitting in the “parlor” with her.

I suppose I carry this with me not only because I feel ashamed for having such a beautiful piece of china broken due to my own stupidity, but, because I’m holding onto a piece of a woman I don’t want to let go of…

Dear Myrle,

I’m sure you have watched from above as I tote this box around from place to place…each time wondering what I’ll ever do with it. The truth is, I don’t really know what I’ll do with it, but I do know I don’t intend to do away with it.

It reminds me of the memories I have of you. It reminds me of a woman who was dear to my grandparents, who had enough interest in my life to send something for the wedding of a girl who acted so shy and probably indifferent around you when she was young.

I will never forget your way with dogs; your incredible rice pudding and fudge sauce that you’d send home with my grandpa in Ball canning jars; and your occasional visit during the holidays.

I look forward to the day when I can sit down with you in a parlor somewhere enjoying a bowl of your rice pudding while we compare how life treated us.

You are a dear woman and I treasure your memory with my boxed up tea cup and broken saucer.

I look forward to our future conversations.

An older and a teensy bit wiser…

Valerie

p.s. – oh, I hope you’ll please call me val