Last month, Kym introduced a new feature on her blog that she named The Museum of Me. It came from a bit of introspection about blogging and I can relate to that completely, as I sometimes contemplate the role the blog plays in my life. The bottom line, for me, is that it’s an incredible online diary of my life, going all the way back to January 2005. Aside from the satisfaction I get from writing, it’s also super useful when it comes to remembering when things happened. For instance, the other day I needed to know when I had Lyme. I knew it was the summer that Dixie died so I searched that on the blog and there it was, August 2014. Not to mention all the big things like weddings and vacations, births and birthdays and deaths, and all the stuff in between for all these years.

So, I’m tagging along with this Museum of Me thing, but in my own way, using Kym’s ideas as a starting point and then putting my own riff on them. Kym’s first exhibit was the oldest thing from her childhood still in her possession. I gave that some thought and I’d have to say it’s probably the Christmas ornaments my brothers made when they were little, back in the late 1950s and early 1960s. They are invaluable to me and I put them on the tree with so much care and love every year. They are also currently in a box in the attic and, as much as I’m committed to this blog, I’m not dragging that box out to take a photo today. Instead, I’m sharing a photo of something from my childhood that is currently on display in my home.

These ceramic Siamese cats were my moms and I clearly remember them being on a side table in our living room. I don’t know where they came from or when she got them but I can’t remember a time they weren’t there. The house I grew up in was a sort of modified cape and the living room was to the right of the front door and it was 100% my mom’s room. It’s where she went to relax and have a moment of peace and my brothers and I were not allowed to play in that room, although we did walk by it every time we went up and down the stairs. Honestly, I only remember being in that room for extended periods of time on Sunday afternoons, holidays, and when I practiced the piano. And sometimes, if I asked and was very careful, I was allowed to move these cats from the side table to the piano and I would play concerts for them. Eventually the piano became their permanent home and I spent a lot of time playing for them. Which is maybe weird . . . but still true.

They have been in various places in our house for many years and right now they are on the tall dresser in our bedroom. They make me think of all the Siamese kitties I have had over the years. And of playing the piano for them.