Red Bag and Santa

Linda's red bag is on the move. 
Our daughters wanted something from the closet and the bag - escaped. 

I never mean to move the bag. 

I don't really want to look at it, but it fascinates me. 

She specifically told me, "My whole life is in that bag." 

Now, I can't open it because I don't yet want to know what she considered her "whole life" and yes,

she spoke with an emphasis, 

as if music played in the background. 

I am reminded of Grand-Katie, Linda's mother,

(my Grandmother - along with Jay, Lee, and Peter's Grandmother, in case you are trying to keep track).

At Christmas, after Grandpa- Joe died, one of Kate's gifts was a helium balloon with Santa's face on it.

(We always celebrated Christmas with Kate and Joe and my mom grew up with a big Christmas tree. I was told that Reformed - German - Jews celebrated Christmas, but since my father grew up Orthodox and then Conservative, and his family was from Russia, now called Latvia, we could not have a tree and there was no Christmas in our family house. Christmas at Kate and Joe's tasted like Thanksgiving, but there was ham and jello with marshmallows in it.)

Kate loved the Santa balloon. 

When we returned to visit in March, Santa was still floating around the house, bumping off the furniture and up and down the stairs. I was shocked to see it. I asked, "How come the balloon is still full???"

I thought that this must be the most incredible, long lasting helium balloon EVER.

Grand- Katie casually said, "I have it refilled. It reminds me of Joe. It's like he's still here."

Then she went into the kitchen. 

Mom didn't say anything.

I had the distinct feeling that I was living in a Beckett play and Godot really was never going to show up.

I hope one day that I will have the courage to open Mom's red bag...and that I don't wait too long.

Until then, I will keep moving it around. 

I think I will document these actions.

For now, the bag is between the laundry basket and the diaper genie. I am sure it deserves better.

With regards,

Bob's Daughter