Preserve

“Those cheap delights the wise

Pluck from the dusty wayside of earth’s 

strife,

Words of frank cheer, glances of friendly 

eyes,

Love’s smallest coin, which yet to some 

may give

The morsel that may keep alive

A starving heart, and teach it to behold

Some glimpse of God where all before 

was cold.”

-James Russell Lowell

This poem book was published in 1908. The cover has fallen off. My mom carefully wrapped it in simple Christmas paper, golden with little dainty flowers. It belonged to my Nana, Erin Cordray.

I carefully preserve this book. My children can look, but please have clean hands. Please leave things as they are between its pages. In this way, I remember my Nana.

I only knew Nana until I was 10. Her books help me understand her in a different way now. I too am a lady who loves books, poems, flowers and memories. I open her book, seeking clues of Erin. This is worth preserving.

Why did she press a flower in this page? Did the poem have meaning? Or was it the flower she wanted to preserve. Did it have special significance to her? Did she grow it in her garden? Or was it picked in a moment of deep emotion?

Why did she underline a phrase here, paste in an extra poem there, place a checkmark in the corner of the page? These questions are mine to ponder.

I wonder if someday a child or grandchild of mine will find my book or journal. Will she carefully turn the pages? Will something of me lie preserved within? Will she treasure these clues of who I am today?