Something as simple as a vase made years ago by Ken’s mother, holds more than pine from the farm and ornaments once my grandmothers—it holds memories. This was one of the few things that survived our house fire.
Here it is for us to fill.
I use it all year around; pine branches now, dried weeds in the fall and wild flowers in the spring all the way through summertime. It holds sunshine and hope, gives what it holds a chance to grace our table, standing quiet, the golden shape of a deer emblazoned forever into bisque.
Smoke stains left in the creases remind us of the past, what it holds keeps us in the present.
We surround ourselves with our memories, but take time to see them. If something as simple as a vase holds you back, put some sunshine inside and make your own present.