When my Mum’s mother was 99 years old she broke her hip. Although she was expected to make a good recovery, her doctor said her days of living alone in her two story Toronto duplex were over. Mum said to her, if you want to move out west, I’ll take care of you.
I shake my head in awe when I remember how she embraced that enormous life change with a spirited sense of adventure. Not to mention that in the remaining three years of her life, she made at least dozen new friends.
But that was my grandma. Who in the 1920s, emigrated to Canada alone to meet up with her fiance (so scandalous at the time she made me promise to never tell anyone). Who, in the 1940s, after the depression and drought turned her farm into a dust pile, started over again in the city.
She brought only a few, small items with her out west. One is a plant stand I cherish. Another is this footstool. She used to sit with her legs stretched out, swollen ankles crossed and propped on up this thing.
Believe me, I have tried to give it a home but it clashes with my colour scheme. And when I put my feet up on it I actually feel less comfortable.
The footstool was sold on marketplace for $30. Someone jumped on it and offered to send me an etransfer immediately to secure the sale. I said sure, gave them my email address and then checked on ebay. There were half a dozen similar items selling for at least $100 if not more. Ooops.