Approximately forty years ago, my mom and dad bought this table used. (At least, I believe so. I don't know that they ever bought brand new furniture . . . ) My mom liked garage sales and bargains. When Louise inherited the house and everything in it, she had two or three tables of her own. "Get rid of the ugly one that none of us ever liked anyhow!" Well after three and a half years, it's done. Ann didn't want to see a piece of history go, so I took photos for her. (Ann adds: Louise remembers that Eileen felt terrible when she used bleach to clean the table and it left a mark. Also: I don't know how many people stubbed their toe on the leg extensions. Ouch! ) Louise adds that the white spots were actually from when mom was trying to clean something else on the table and the bleach leaked through the cloth it was on. Here they are:
This is a sad story. I'm not 100% what year it was (2011-2013?) but I had to fill out the same old paperwork for work. Every year, the same stuff! Phone number, address, blah blah blah. (I was super tempted to write "Nothing's changed.") But on the section where it asked for a secondary contact in case of emergency, I paused. And cried. Louie is always my first contact. But my mom had always been that second one, just in case. And it must have been the fall of 2011, because I remember the struggle I felt knowing she wouldn't have the mental acuity to take an emergency call on my behalf. The realization that her role in my life had changed and I needed to be strong for her . . . rather than me being able to lean on her . . . that was hard. I asked Morgan if I could put his name and number down in case of an emergency if they couldn't reach his dad. Of course, he said yes. I am incredibly blessed that I had my mom around for 48 years of my life and that ...
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