Things I Need To Remember

    Last Thursday Tom and I drove from Columbus to Seaford, Delaware to visit my mother.

    Though she’ll be turning 95 in two weeks my mother still looks – and is – phenomenal.

    My mother is still able, with the help of her friend and household-helper Fran (see post from 5/28/2014)

 to keep a lovely, spotlessly clean home:

     I say spotlessly clean, though the walls don’t lack for decorative hangings nor the spaces and surfaces for assorted  knick-knacks and curios .
    Whenever I visit my mother I find myself wandering through the house as one would through the rooms of a museum, studying the photos and pictures,  touching the vases and figurines, charmed and captivated as a child by all the pretty objects.

    But one time during this visit as I was taking a turn around the house the thought hit me:  After I leave in a few days how many more times will I see my mother? How many more times will I be able to walk around her house and look at her things,  all the colorful objets d'art  that are my mother's material ties to this life and the people she loves? 
     I wished there were some way to keep my mother and everything in her house frozen in time and memory, right where they are, forever.
    And then I remembered:  that's what cameras are for.