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Reminiscing about how not cute the '90s were.

Fiestaware in a vintage shop (Ballston Spa, NY)

Treasures from Grandma's jewelry box.

     Going home to New York is always .... a process.  There are always too many people to see and things I want to do in a few short days.  Arriving in Manhattan makes me seriously question why I ever left, every single time.  But, coming back up to Boston and my simple little life, is a sigh of relief each time too.  I don't expect those feelings to ever change.  When I am in NY, I call Boston 'home', and when I am in Boston it is the other way around.  I'm obviously conflicted (but aren't we all??).
     Anyway, the highlight of my Thanksgiving weekend trip (on top of yummy food, playing with godson, and hugging my parents) was rummaging through my Grandma's bedroom.  She passed away in July from Alzheimer's, and my Grandpa asked me to have a look through her things.  I love vintage, especially sentimental vintage, so I was in heaven on Sunday.  My sister and I went drawer by drawer uncovering earrings, beaded necklaces, fake diamond bracelets, and colorful scarves. Her statement necklaces screamed '60s, and the stacks of bangles reminded me of the sound she made walking around the house.  Her 'arm party' was the original.
    Grandpa stood by watching us, sharing stories about his wife as we pulled things from her dresser. In Grandma's bottom drawer, we found a large green jewelry box.  In the box I found her wedding band- a thin gold loop, engraved with my grandparents' initials and the date.  "Take it," Grandpa hurried.  He could not remember exactly how he proposed, with the engagement ring that cost him only $175 in 1954.  The ring is now mine; it was gifted to me on my Sweet 16, which was totally unexpected and I had been afraid to wear it until a few months ago. 
    Now, I've stacked her diamond, wedding band, and another patterned gold band I found on my left middle finger.  I carry with me the only family heirlooms we really have, besides pictures, which I plan to keep safe until they are due to be passed down again. 
    It is these parts of 'home' that I miss while living in a different city. But, it forces me to truly treasure my time with my favorite places and, more importantly, people when I visit.  Not to mention I carry pieces of home with me everywhere, and there's no getting rid of a New York state of mind.