car seats looked like this?
I don't, but my mom sure does. I'm up in Long Island, New York cleaning out my grandfather's house (he's in assisted living now), and she found that car seat in a closet. I used to ride in that thing. SERIOUSLY. I don't know what good it did, the buckle was USELESS.
Seriously who couldn't get out of that buckle? My mom even chuckles because at the time that seat was bought it was the top of the line model, fairly expensive and by today's standards not worth a penny.
That's the funny thing about cleaning out a grandparents' house. You find stuff. My favorite part is the old pictures. I love seeing my mom growing up, though there seem to only be pictures of her when she was like 1 and then in college haha. Not sure what happened inbetween there. Then there's my grandmother who HATED having her picture taken, so much so that she was NOTORIOUS for cutting herself out of pictures. You'll find what look like delightful pictures with someone's head missing! That headless person is ALWAYS my grandmother. And it makes me sad because she meant the world to me and if I could I would have a million photographs of her.
Speaking of, I think the saddest part about someone dying is forgetting what they look like. I know what my grandmother looked like, BUT from photographs. I was only 9 when she passed away and can't remember what she PHYSICALLY looked like in my memories. I remember things about her, her silver hair and impeccable clothing. Her shoe collection and handbags. Eating lunch and watching soap operas. Her telling my grandfather to "Slow Down Pete" when he was driving too fast or the way she would rub my arm to sooth me before bed. I remember her calling me punkin and just showering me with the most love I think I could ever try to describe. But I can't remember HER! And it's heartbreaking. When I dream about her, it's her presence, not her. When I think of her, it's her presence. I suppose this means that she's living on, but it saddens me that I can't remember her!
I Want to be in the Arms of the Angel,