Comforts of alone.

Much like the song from Sound of Music.

It struck me this morning when I woke to something prodding my shoulder – it was Maya’s little, old dog! Look at it and the heart gets both warmed and nostalgic. How very many stories that little dog tells.

Barre Moms’ old black and white comforter, the association obviously adds an extra layer.

Sheets she embroidered for my trousseau, which I finally decided to use. The dressing table at which I can still see her sitting.

A bookshelf full of my mothers collection of Georgette Heyer!

The glass warmer, Maya’s first knitting attempt. The stickers on the mirror, when Rifq thought Mama was great!

Photographs and decanters. The contents of which has most to do with comfort! But the memory is of my Grandfather holding it by the neck and carrying it to and from the drawing room every evening.

Perhaps waking to all these around me, makes for never being alone. I guess it’s why we surround ourselves with memorabilia.

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