All She Keeps

In the kitchen of a modest house in Tipperary, there is a beat up and cracked old toy.

Few would think it is worth keeping, especially with space at such a premium.

The kitchen is the heart of this home, and any who come to visit - rarely leave this space.

It has a huge and always piping hot old stove, a table bursting with seats, and a handful of scattered armchairs. Once your eyes have gotten beyond the pastureland, the Galtee Mountains stand tall in the distance outside each rear-facing window.

We come to this kitchen for stories, for warmth and of course, for the incredible food. Hot apple pies, traditional Irish breakfasts, and soul-warming cups of tea. Despite the close quarters, there is magically always room at the table for one more.

In it's prime, this house was home to 2 energetic parents and 9 children.

Eleven people in total, shared just four bedrooms. Well, three actually, since one room was always reserved for special guests. Today, far less frequently of course, it is the grandchildren who bustle through the doors.

I walked slowly through the house this time, it is simply bursting with memories of kittens at the back door, siblings swinging from bunk beds, and walking the family herd of cows to pastures on the way to and back from school. There are religious figurines and crosses visible at every turn. There are tables filled with pictures of beloved grandchildren in America. And, there are closets that ooze worn-out wellies in every shape, size and color imaginable.

Look at all she keeps.

This visit I couldn't help but focus on a haggard old water-filled toy. How had I not seen it before? I used to play with the same toy when I was younger. Pushing a button shoots rings through the water and the skilled handler shifts the toy around to catch rings on the hooks.

I learned that this faded orange gadget was the youngest child's toy. She played with it during her battle and ultimate surrender to leukemia. It was her hospital toy. It was her home toy.

As her mom kept caring for her and comforting her day in and day out - as she watched her little girl's hair thin and eventually fall out....the water-filled, ring-toss toy was played.

And her mom kept watch. Over her. And her toy.

Now, 25 years later - her mom keeps watching over the toy and the mirky water that fills it.

I'm amazed that she even lets visiting children touch it, but she does. They delight in the simplicity of it - bubbles, gurgling water, colorful rings. It requires no batteries, just attention.

Do my children remind her of her courageous little girl when they pick up the toy to play? I wonder.

When the children lose interest or turn careless with the toy - she removes the toy from tiny hands and returns it to the place of honor very near her kitchen sink in the back corner of the room. The taped side faces out.

In this cozy house the mom keeps watch over the wellies,

the homemade pies,

the statues of Mary,

the memories of bunk bed wars,

the dairy cows mooing in the distance,

the picturesque mountains,

the kittens at the back door,

her courageous baby girl's water-filled toy....

and me.

This is all she keeps.