Florida sun, post 3

(See post 1 and post 2)

Two things can get in the way of sunbathing on a vacation: scorched skin and rain. On those two occasions, the Hardisons loaded the car for a different family outing: shopping. Antique shopping. Or, more accurately, Mom went antique shopping, and we went with her.

The treasure troves are a dime a dozen down there, and only now does it hit me to wonder why: "You can't take it with you when you go," and the retirees who fled the snow for the south Florida coast--and never went back--are perfect examples. Their left-behinds became her rough, and a diamond or two she always found. 

If you've ever eaten a meal at the Hardison house, you've heard the story of mom's sterling silver flatware. Maybe multiple times. I can't remember why mom was looking for silver flatware that particular year. She already had a set at home. I bet she saw a picture in a Southern Living of a beautifully mismatched place setting and got inspired. (Same thing happened to me just last week.)

I can hear mom tell the story:

"I'm looking for sterling silver flatware. Any chance you have any?"

[Store owner, peering over her square half glasses] "As a matter of fact, I just got a set the other day. But, you probably won't be interested because there's an initial engraved on each piece."

[Mom, excited] "That doesn't bother me. It'll add to the charm of my set. What's the initial, anyway?"

"H."

Now I know for certain mom believed that set of "H" sterling silver flatware was a gift straight from the Lord that day. A find that good had to be divine.

As fun as it was to troll the shelves of other people's stuff, finding treasures always left mom in the quandary each year of how to get her treasures home. A set of flatware is one thing. An oil painting is another. One year, we drove the two days home with a canvas oil painting strapped to the inside roof of the car. The Camry. Mom bribed me with a new purse and Drew with a signed baseball card not to complain about it. (For any family members who have forgotten which picture I'm talking about, it's the one with the three-legged dog hanging over the yellow printed chair in the den.)

Thanks to those retired, relocated, at-rest Floridians, mom and dad's home is filled with beautiful antiques, and almost every piece has a story. When mom was couch-ridden the last few years, she always said how much she loved her house. I know looking at all of her things brought back memories, like the story of the divine flatware.

The day after antiquing (and stamp and coin collecting for Drew and me--I must mention that), we always ended up back in the sun, not to lose our tans of course. And eventually, those two wonderful, highly anticipated Florida weeks would come to a close, the only things drawing me home, my kitty and the chance to show off my tan.

Last, but most important, before closing the door on that shag carpet for the next 340-some days until we opened it again, we managed to find time for stuff like this:

 

and this:

and this:

And I'm so glad we did. Because that right there is what vacation is all about.

Sun. Fun. Togetherness.

Oh childhood summers, sweet is your lingering scent, happy are your lasting memories.