My Bobby Pin

I was cleaning Granny’s trailer when I took it.  The dust rag was moving slowly, back and forth, along the nightstand when, pretty much without a thought, I swept the small copper bobby pin into my pocket.  There were a few more bobby pins scattered about so I knew she wouldn’t miss just one.  Besides, she was in the hospital at the time and it wasn’t exactly clear if she’d be coming back home again.

I was missing her being in that space.  From the moment I walked into the small trailer that sat behind my uncle’s house I felt an emptiness.  Looking around I could see pictures, plates and other knickknacks that told me I was in Granny’s house.  The sun was shining bright through the sheer curtains but without her presence there was a coldness in the space.

The bobby pin reminded me of another time- when I was much younger, somewhere around the age of 5.  Many nights were spent in my grandmother’s room.  I’d curl up in her bed and watch as she’d carefully roll up her hair.  First came the small wire curlers, then the bobby pins used to secure them in place.  Finally, she’d lay a gray hair net across her head to keep everything together.  Then it was bed time- time to do a little talking, some praying and finally sleeping.

Those days are long gone. Feeling the hard wavy edge of metal takes me back and brings a smile to my face.