Tonight, Ben and Craig moved my grandmother Carew's desk from Jessica's basement to our living room. I've needed a desk for working, and it was just sitting in her basement collecting dust, so she let me have it.
After Becca was asleep, I took a close look at the desk. I can't say that I ever remember my grandmother sitting at it or using it, but I'm sure it was used. It's got marks where she used to lay her arms along the front edge, just like she would lean against the counter or on the table while playing cards. I looked through the little cabinets on the left side, the drawers on the right. In the bottom filing drawer are some of grandma's hanging files. They are all empty, but one of them has her writing on it. I smiled to see her writing, it's so distinctive. And then I touched it. Like it connects me to her once more. Isn't it funny when we see a picture of a lost loved one, or find something they've written, and we have to touch it.