The Bassinette

Robin's bassinetteMy friend’s home was recently sold and a collection of things that no one could bring themselves to part with landed in a garage.  I looked at the pile of items from three generations of living and my eyes began to tear up when they locked on a lovely white wicker bassinet.

Let me go back in history and tell you about the tears and the bassinet.

My lifelong friend Raye Ellen, had a little sister named Robin (Bird to me).  She arrived on the scene when I was seven and Raye was nine. She was a bit of an afterthought for her parents I suppose but Raye and I considered her arrival a momentous occasion.We spent many hours hovering over her as she slept in her lovely white bed, waiting for her to wake up so we watch what she might do next.

Raye, I’m sure, was less interested because the baby had invaded her bedroom space.  I, on the other hand, had never seen much of babies except distantly in the hands of my aunts and I instantly fell in love with this little creature.

Because our parents were very close friends and neighbours Robin became my Mother’s God Daughter.  This was a task my mother took very seriously so the little girl was often found at our house.

As the years passed we watched her grow.  At age three she always had a runny nose and straggly, tangled hair but she had fabulous, big brown eyes and a smile that was irresistible.  When she showed up at our door with her grubby little fingers stretched out asking “Aunt Marj” for a cookie my mother would say, “Who has terrible hair and beautiful eyes?”  Robin would reply “I do, Aunt Marj.”  Perhaps not a great greeting by today’s standards but it was a moment of endearment for those two.  They loved one another dearly.

By the time she was about five Robin had become quite a bother to her sister and I.  Besides having to share a room with her, Raye had to spend a lot of time  “babysitting”. Because of their age difference, the novelty wore off quite early.  Raye had much more interesting things to do than have a little sister tagging along.  Sometimes we would take our 5 cents and run downtown so Robin didn’t know we were gone until it was too late to have her tag along.  We would savor every step as walked home with fudge-sicles in hand, but they had to be gone before we were in sight or we would have to go back get one for Robin.

When Raye and I left home to head off to the adventures of our lives Robin was still a little kid.  She had her struggles as a teenager but we weren’t much exposed to them and we had started our own lives and families.  The two worlds were very much apart until Robin finally settled herself down (a little bit) and had her own family.  She and Raye Ellen actually became quite close as adults.

I often wished I had a sister to share life with but when I suddenly found Robin was my sister it was not by happy circumstances.  Raye Ellen died suddenly and tragically.  The circumstance threw me back into loving the sweet girl with the beautiful eyes.  Our shared history and our shared loss brought us together and though we didn’t see each other very often our meetings were always warm and comforting.

Sadly, about four years ago Robin also died quite suddenly with stomach cancer. I didn’t even know until it was too late to say goodbye.

Recently her home was sold and her lovely, adult daughters had to sort through the memories.  There were some things they could not part with which landed in their Dad’s garage.  That is where I saw this beautiful bassinet.  As I ran my fingers over the old wicker and it’s many coats of paint and rubbed my hand across the small, soft mattress I wondered how many little bodies had  been placed in it over the years.  I recalled the fabulous white eyelet and red ribbon that had decorated it so many years ago when I looked at that beautiful child it held.

Because it has been rescued I can only hope many more generations will find their beginnings in this simple piece of old fashioned furniture.

Are their pieces of furniture or relics of life which will find their way through generations with hope and promise of love and joy?

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About Peggy Guiler

You just never know what show up on my blog. As the name implies it is about the stuff of life just like Spilt Milk. Everyday events spark thought and contemplation. Special events in the community, the country or the world may strike a cord and get me talking. Sometimes it's about people in my life or circumstances, sometimes about my garden, sometimes about a book or a political issue. Always it's about something I am passionate about. In my business, River of Hope Enterprises, I work as an "Associate Certified Coach" (International Coach Federation), a trainer, consultant and speaker. and soon to be, spiritual director. I also drive a school bus to keep the wolf from the door while I build my business. I love the kids on the bus (most of the time). My family is grown and I have three grandkids who thrill my heart but I don't get to see any of them very often. Circumstances of life have made "family" difficult. My son died by suicide at age 16 in 2000 and the strain on our family relationships since has been huge. Mental health is a field where I worked for almost 20 years and where I still do some consulting and training. That combined with my own battle with depression and my son's death weave together to form some of my greatest soap box items: suicide intervention, suicide bereavement and peer support in mental health are right on the top of my list. Social justice is an underlying passion. Keeping the wolf from the door as a single parent was full-time work and my career path as a journalists was augmented with cleaning contracts, cooking, retail clerk, and bartending. I have known hard work and am grateful for the experience and perspective it has given me. My own passion for learning has now taken me toward a new field as a Spiritual Director. I am studying with the Ontario Jubilee Program. This new field I believe puts all my talents with people into one place which and may​ become something I can continue into retirement. Supporting people is what I do best. Woven into all of this is my love of writing. Trained as a Journalist, and having worked in the field as a freelance news writer for many years, I have a great love for writing. This blog is a new beginning for me. As I hone my skills and begin to form a daily discipline of writing I hope it will lead to more writing in the future.
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One Response to The Bassinette

  1. Joanna Lynn says:

    What a sweet, sweet story. Brought tears to my eyes. To value those around us while we have them is so important. You loved your friends very well.

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