In my Grandmothers house, in an old cheap tin frame, there was a picture of a cottage. Perhaps in Old England, this cottage has a thatched roof, is surrounded by trees and greenery, has a brook running through the property and up to the cottage. The picture looks like a photo of a hand painted picture, so who knows if such a place ever existed. Grandma always had it on her piano or a shelf that she could see everyday. I don’t remember ever asking her about it or whether or not she ever said anything about it, I just know it was important to her.

When Grandma died, my mother took the picture home with her. She loved it that picture, why I don’t know. She told some stories of people who painted it, she had my cousin repaint it much larger one year, but it wasn’t the same. The stories were always different and I never really got the idea that she really knew why Grandma had the picture.

When my Mother died I took the picture home with me. The old tin frame was rusted and falling apart so I decided I was going to find an old fashioned looking frame that would befit such a picture. The frame wasn’t hard to find, although finding the exact size was, but I figured that with some careful trimming I could make it work. So I removed the picture from the frame for the first time…….maybe ever, and to my surprise it wasn’t a picture, it was an old postcard. For a second I was very excited! I quickly turned over the postcard hoping to find a snippet of Grandmas history, the reason why this card was so important to her, but I was just as quickly disappointed. There was no writing on the card.

I sat there for a long time wondering why this picture, why a postcard, why keep it so well and safe for well over 80 years? I will never know in this life any of those answers. What I do know is that this picture reminded Grandma of better days, or a fond memory, or a hope and wish unfulfilled. What I do know is that this picture reminds me of Grandma. I honestly cant say if it’s all about Grandma, but I know that that little picture has influenced my sense of peace, my sense of what home should be, my sense of style and beauty. I do know that that little picture makes me long for a quiet cottage of my own, a place with water, green trees, silence, a swing for the children, lazy smoke coming from the chimney. It represents a simple time, a time to breathe, peace to collect your thoughts, time to remember who you are.

Someday when I see Grandma again, I will ask her about the postcard, but for now I’ll remember her and enjoy what it represents in my life. I don’t know if any of my children will care about the postcard or even wonder about its history. Maybe I’ll just take it with me!