It's at a snail's pace that, over the past 11 months, I've been "working" (dawdling) my way through the process of "organizing" years' and years' worth of accumulated papers and files and materials for art-or-craft. I think I now qualify as an archaeologist, I've negotiated so many strata of artifacts (and craftifacts).
I got a little teary just now, as I reached deep into the back of a narrow drawer of a rolltop desk in the living room and retrieved a box containing the colored pencils in the photo. It's a set I used as a child, when I was visiting my maternal grandparents Daddy Lee and Mam'ella at "Knee Deep," their home in Algiers, across the Mississippi River from New Orleans.
Nowadays, when I do my Metta (Lovingkindness) practice and work my way through the several categories of persons to whom I am wishing happiness and ease and cetera (whether they are alive or deceased), Mam'ella is on my list of "Benefactors." Nowadays, when I am doing self-applied somatic healing work, she is on my list of "Nurturing Figures." Also in that work, one of the "Comfortable Places" I can take myself to in my imagination is the little pea-green-painted kitchen table at "Knee Deep," where I see myself seated in a little pea-green-painted chair, working determinedly and contentedly on some art-or-craft project, under Mam'ella's caring direction, often using these very pencils.
I quite forgot I still own them. Until a moment ago. Where shall I put them, so that I don't forget again?