"The Drawer"

I had forgotten about the drawer until S. mentioned it. It was the remaining part of a "finish it yourself" telephone stand from--1960 or 70 something. The telephone stand was replaced by a microwave cart--but the drawer was salvaged, as she needed the drawer for her "stuff".

Never mind that it was "blonde" and the microwave cart walnut. Never mind that there was no drawer space on the cart. It sat on the shelf for as long as I can remember--full of pens, pencils, rubberbands, miscellaneous scraps of paper, phone lists, and "stuff"--keys and thumbtacks, markers, paintbrushes, etc. It was the epicenter of planning for pot lucks, phone fan outs, notes to self (which were increasingly more important), and the calendars that chronicled the daily life. The microwave cart developed "groves".

It moved with the cart to the apartment, to the house, and then got left behind when we took her to the "home", as she had no more need for pencils, phone lists, planning, or rubber bands. Calendars were of no use. There were no pot lucks or phone fanouts to be done. It was "inherited" by the "keepers" of "the house".

It held phone books, pizza coupons, and pens. I cleaned it out once. Other stuff, important to the keepers found a home in the drawer. We all knew what one would find in the drawer, and what to put in the drawer, although we had never had lessons. It just "was".

E left. D moved in with his boys. Various comings and goings. The drawer had staying power. The microwave stopped working, or moved, or something. There was no need for the cart. D probably moved it to make way for other furniture when the households were combined and S became his wife. I think it went to the garage. Maybe (?) "the drawer" went with it. No one seems to know.

The drawer is only important for what it was. A depository of the stuff that was important in a life that has left us...twice. First in memory, and finally in body.
The drawer is like my friend Judy's daughter's nana's monkey. An item that no one except those who loved the owner would think was anything other than junk.

It is not about the drawer. It is about the memories! (and knowing where to get a rubber band when you need it!)