I have been slowly and reluctantly going through what's left, physically, of my mom's life -- a few boxes of things tossed together and sent to me. It's hard, to see a life come down to what any casual onlooker would glance at and pronounce: trash. Bits and pieces of things.
In her ragtag shoebox of jewelry I come across fragments, mostly. She was perhaps more adept at losing a single earring than anyone, and it seems that she had a particular knack for losing just the good ones. So I can match up pair after pair of inexpensive jingles and jangles, but the few that I find that I know to be of value and quality -- those are doomed to be ones of a kind.
I had to laugh, and experience an odd kind of chill, when I came across several Christmas ornament hooks and a tiny Christmas ornament, because I can find those exact same items in my own jewelry box (although mine isn't a shoebox). Well, you know, there's that whole business about the acorn not falling far from the tree.
I did also come across this tiny, tattered nativity set. No piece is even half an inch tall. They were rattling around inside a box with no protection at all, so I'm actually surprised they are as intact as this. She loved Mexico, and the arts of Mexico, and in particular the religious art of Mexico, and I'm sure she treasured this little set that she probably picked up for pocket change back in the 1970's.
I'm sorry the depth of field is so shallow in the photo, but I know that if I wait to set up and take the shot in better light and with a wider focal plane, it'll be Easter time and the moment will have passed.
Anyway, I'm so happy to have found it, and to have it displayed on our mantle.