The Goat in the Mirror
This was one of Mama’s favorite pictures of me sitting on my great-grandma Pearl’s dresser. She saw her daughter. I have always seen a little girl who used to be me.
Looking closer I see . . .
- The lace of a handkerchief peeking out from a drawer.
- And the time – 7:22 or so.
- Shoes scuffed on the bottoms by a little girl who preferred moving to sitting.
- A barrette holding blond hair in place.
- A little girl looking at someone she knows.
Today, looking even closer, I wondered what I had in my hands. Then I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw a goat planter that now sits in my cupboard. That detail is my favorite. Mama enjoyed telling the story about Grandma Pearl’s real goat.
He was a gift from her son Floyd. Mama said he saw the real goat in the alley behind a Greek restaurant and couldn’t bear the thought of the animal becoming the meat ingredient in a recipe, so he bought it and brought it home to his mother.
She named it Billy. He was kind to her but one day decided to butt my six-foot four-inch grandfather (Pearl’s son in law) behind his knees. When Grandpa Ed went down, Billy baaed as if satisfied with his efforts. Grandpa kept his eye on Billy from then on.
After Grandma Pearl left here for Heaven, Mama gave me the little goat I’m holding in this photo. It was wrapped in an old and yellowed newspaper. I don’t remember anyone telling me why she wanted me to have the goat, but I remember being glad she wanted it to be mine. Her goat sat in my bookcase with my Nancy Drew mysteries and Little House on the Prairie books and has moved with me many times.
I loved the goat planter before because it was hers. Today I love it a little more because it feels like Grandma Pearl considered it ours.
What a difference a goat in the mirror can make sixty or so years after a moment was saved. A moment now treasured.
Until Next Time,
Joy
This is such a beautiful post. I have such wonderful memories of a very special grandmother. She died when I was twelve and I wonder: if she left such an impact in 12 years, what would have happened if God had given us more time together? Thanks for sharing!
Hi Connie! I wonder the same thing.
I wonder the same thing, Connie.
When I was 3 or 4, my parents let me get my grandmother a gift, it is a lamp made out of sea shells, My grandmother made sure I got the lamp when she was gone, it sets in my bookcase, and every time I see it, I see that beautiful grandmother that I loved so much.
I love that you have this beautiful gift and that you take the time to remember her love for you.
I am 71 years old, so this lamp is about 68 years old, it will go to my granddaughter, and I hope she looks at it and sees me, they way I still see my gramdmother.
How wonderful! I understand – when I see one of their gifts to me around the house, I think of those I loved and who loved me!
Beautiful memories are some of the richest gifts our family bestow on us. This story is wonderful.
Thank you, Jan!
Oh the memories cultivated from these old photos – I so relate! I have a picture of me taken at about the same age and I am holding a small doll. Turns out it was a Nancy Ann Storybook doll that I still have and began collecting them when I was in my 20’s. Later found out that a dearly departed aunt is the one who started me on this collection. Now I have about 50 of them and love them all, the big question is – what to do with them all!
How fun, Jill! And what a neat story – a legacy story!
Thank you for sharing! I’m glad you have these memories to keep close in your heart. Family is important & making memories!
Love this piece of your story, Joy.
I love you, Jeanne!