Hoarding!

A child of the 1940's
hoarding was unpatriotic
at least and a sin at most.

Sharing was the order
of the day.

Plugging away...
discerning the treasure
from the dross
I found the little red hat.

Infant sized...
a handknit gift
for my first daughter...

It's a rectangle folded in half
with a ribbed border...
frayed ties and bedraggled pom-poms.

Knitted by my first cousin, "Little Mary,"
I have guarded it jealously
for forty plus years.

Mary had wanted a change-of-life baby.
When a baby of her own did not materialize
she claimed Jo Ellen as the baby of her heart.

She knitted away: the hat, a sweater, a blanket.

Bought:
an heirloom quality christening dress
a stuffed elephant large enough for a toddler to sit upon
a playpen

Cancer took away her hearty laugh,
dancing ways, and generous spirit
within two years.

I heard a month ago...
she would now be
a great-grandmother.

I fingered the hat.
Thought about
passing it on.

Tugged this way
Pulled that way
I tried to give it up

But...
I couldn't help but imagine
that the sad little hat
would be suffer in comparison
to the beautiful baby outfits
feted this first grandbaby.

Could someone else love it so?
Would it be cared for?
Would the memories dematerialize,
be lost?

I replaced the hat
in the little plastic bag,
sealed-in all those memories
for a few more years.

I hoarded it!