If walls could talk

We have all heard the expression..."If walls could talk..."
Well our house kind of does. A lady by the name of Idella Canada built our home with her husband in 1953. She lived there until she died in 1995. Her children and family had cleared out most of her belongings and memoribilia, but there were still some things that remained when Aaron and I moved into this old house last February. I sorted through the things that were tucked away in drawers, packed away pictures, and collectibles that were placed around her home. I came across a box labeled "Travels" that was filled with pictures from all around the world, and there were souveiners also left behind.

I live in her home, beside her son and his wife, and I attend the same church she was a long time member of. I never met Mrs. Canada, but living in her home I feel like I have gotten a sense of who she was. We have yet to remodel so in a way I still feel as if I am living in HER home. She loved red, which can be seen from room to room. The inside of the kitchen cabinets are painted red, and cut out newspaper articles are taped up inside. When we first moved in I was cleaning the kitchen and I started to take them down, but they are so old they began to crumble when touched, so I decided to leave them up until the kitchen is remodeled. Now when I open the cabinets I am reminded that these articles were once important to someone. She had taped them up because she liked them and I guess wanted to display them somewhere they would often be seen instead of hiding them away. Some are funny, others are touching, or even words of wisdom. The other day I took the time to read one again and thought I would share...

When I think about where my get up has been
with my ears in a drawer, my teeth in a cup, my eyes on the table until I wake up.
As sleep dims my eyes I say to myself, "Is there anything else I should lay on the shelf?"
I am happy to say, as I close the door my friends are the same or perhaps even more.
When I was young my slippers were red. I could kick up my heels right over my head.
When I grew older my slippers were blue, but still I could dance the whole night through.
Now I am old, my slippers are black. I walk to the store and puff my way back.
The reason I know now my youth is all spent. My get up and go has got up and went.
But I really don't mind when I think with a grin of all the grand places my get up has been.
Since I have retired from life's competition, I busy myself with complete repitition.
I get up each morning and dust off my wits, pick up the paper and read the "obits".
If my name is missing I know I'm not dead.
So I eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.

I never met Mrs. Canada, but I believe she was a very interesting person. I was 9 years old when she left this world, but 16 years later she touched my heart and my life.