July 9

My grandparents kept a set of safari-themed pillows on their family room couch for as long as I can remember. Back in the '80s, I'd sit on that sofa and run my fingers over the surface of those pillows, searching for the pointy ends of the feathers that comprised the stuffing within. When I found one, I'd  wiggle it out, taking care to not damage the fabric. (I don't know why I did it; there was something deeply satisfying about doing it though.)

So as we were preparing to leave grandma's house back in May, I nabbed one of those precious pillows and brought it home with me. It now lives on the couch in my family room, and late at night, after everyone else is in bed, I sometimes lie my head against it and close my eyes and remember what was, way back when I was young.

I remember watching Wheel of Fortune (and how Grandpa always said, with a sly grin that only crept across his face every so often, that Vanna White was his girl). And I remember sitting with Grandma while she stitched her animals for the hospital, and I remember putting curlers in her hair just for fun.

They're sweet memories, and I'm grateful to have this memento that brings them to the forefront of my mind.