I accidentally opened a time capsule last week and the items I found within were amazing — if only in my eyes. The fact is that opening that particular vessel wasn’t an accident at all. When I describe it that way, I mean that although I should have expected it, I didn’t realize what the contents would reveal to me.
The object of which I write is my mom’s purse which has been tucked away in a closet since her untimely death four-and-a-half years ago. She had rheumatoid arthritis and some of the medications she took severely compromised her immune system. She contracted a rare infection called Cryptococcal Meningitis and it killed her at 10:55 in the morning on the last Sunday in September of 2019 — about a month after her diagnosis.
Last week I was looking for one of Mom’s passcodes so that I might withdraw some money using my dad’s debit card to pay for having his lawn mowed. He never used the card much and doesn’t remember the code if he even knew there was one. Mom’s purse had to still be around somewhere I thought, and sure enough wife, Danny, found it tucked into one of the closets at Dad’s house.
The first thing I noticed when I opened the handbag was a very familiar smell. It was one that I had not smelled in over four-and-a-half years. It was the smell of my mother. It gave me a chill.
As I carefully began removing the items from the purse and spreading them on on top of my desk I couldn’t stop the memories from popping into my head and for the most part they brought smiles to my face.
There was a little dried up bottle of “Berry Merry Rose” fragrant hand cream. I opened it and took a whiff and remembered it clearly. Another chill came over me. She loved sweet smelling hand cream and, like her mother before her, was constantly moisturizing.
There was also a big fingernail file that I watched her use to touch up her fingernails on a regular basis — not an entire lifetime with this one file but a long time judging from the smooth areas of the grit. She loved polished nails as much as she loved her family I think.
There was also a dried up vial of hand sanitizer in there, even though she died several months before the pandemic, and hand sanitizer becoming a staple in most ladies’ purses.
She must have been looking to buy a new microwave and toaster oven for her kitchen because on the little St. Jude Children’s Hospital notepad found within were the measurements for both.
Also on that notepad was what looks like a running list for the grocery store, or Walmart, or Sam’s. She was planning on making a pie of some sort because the list includes a crust. She also needed some Rice Crispies, and honey buns, and tissues, and towels and all sorts of everyday things most of us have on our own shopping lists.
There were some faded out receipts for who knows for what, or from who knows where, and there were several copies of the lists of medications she took as well as the ones that my dad took so they would be prepared, I suppose, if an unexpected trip to a doctor’s office should occur. The Remicade infusion listed there for every eight weeks, then every six weeks as its benefits began to dwindle, I think, is the one that brought her immune system down.
There was an empty money envelope from a Christmas sometime past, and old Visa Travelers Cheques holder from a vacation trip sometime past as well.
There was a pretty 2018-2019 pocketbook calendar with an old fashioned looking Betsy Ross flag for its cover that apparently was never used.
She had some discount shopping cards from Belk that expired on September 2, 2019, about the time she fell ill and obviously there was the Belk credit card to use with them with her name signed in a familiar script on the back.
There was a Kroger shopper’s card, a Walgreens shopper’s card, a Sally Beauty shopper’s card (fingernail files), and a Sears Blue Crew shopper’s reward card, whatever that might be. I reckon she was determined to save a little bit on her next purchases wherever they may be.
Her drivers license were still in there with her picture on it, and a Target gift card with a $14.21 balance still on it. I checked online!
She had one of those cards that list the amount to tip a server whether it be 10 percent or 20 percent depending on the level of service, and a blood donor card that said she had Type O Positive blood. I never knew her to be one to donate blood but I guess she did. I do.
There was also an ever present half-used tube of burgundy lipstick. I can still picture the shape of her lips on a coffee cup in that color.
Of all things, I suppose she listened to her own momma many years ago because there was a clean pair of panties folded neatly in a Zip Lock bag. We all know that one never knows when one might need clean underwear!
And, in the very bottom corner of my Mom’s purse, of my new-found time capsule, I found a buckeye. I remember my grandfather, my mother’s daddy, carrying a buckeye in his pocket for good luck. I wonder if it is the very same one, and I wonder if she had been carrying it since his untimely death following a 1973 collision with an 18-wheeler here in Forest.
I shall let myself believe that it is.
Surely, I thought at the beginning of my journey down memory lane that she had that passcode written down on something in there somewhere.
She did not, but I certainly enjoyed the ride.
