Remember Me, When This You See

Such a lovely essay from Kerry Sanger. Spend a few minutes reading, and then let this steep for a while.

Love Those "Hands at Home"

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Say I’m weary, say I’m sad,

Say that health and wealth have missed me,

Say I’m growing old, but add,

Jenny kissed me.

–James Henry Leigh Hunt

How would you have people remember you, when you’re gone? What do you want them to know, to focus on, in their memories?

The sweet poem at the top of the post came to mind while I was writing, a few months ago, about Harriett and the linen cloth she decorated with her handwork.

The man speaking the poem asserts that, whatever else his life held, it was leavened, and defined, by a kiss from Jenny. This attention, this moment, was an essential part of his being and should be remembered as a key to who he was.

Similarly, the tag sewn to the piece of vintage linen I came across said simply, “Made by Harriett.” That’s all I know about Harriett. I…

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