Jenny's Antique
佚名 / Anonymous
My six-year-old granddaughter stares at me as if she is seeing me for the first time. “Grandma， you are an antique，” she says. “You are old. Antiques are oId. You are my antique.”
I am not satisfied to let the matter rest there. I take out the Webster’s Dictionary and read the definition to Jenny. I explain， “An antique is not only just old， it’s an object existing since or belonging to earlier times...a work of art... piece of furniture.” “Antiques are treasured，” I tell Jenny as I put away the dictionary. “They have to be handled carefully because they sometimes are very valuable. In order to quality as an antique， the object has to be at least 100 years old.”
“I’m only 67，” I remind Jenny.
We look around the house for other antiques， besides me. There is a bureau that was handed down from one aunt to another and finally to our family. “It’s very old.” I tell Jenny. I try to keep it polished and I show it off whenever I can. You do that with antiques. When Jenny gets older and understands such things， I might also tell her that whenever I look at the bureau or touch it， I am reminded of the aunt so dear to me who gave me the bureau as a gift. I see her face again though she is no longer with us. I even hear her voice， and recall her smile. I remember myself as a little girl leaning against this antique， listening to one of her stories. The bureau does that for me.
There is a picture on the wall purchased at a garage sale. It is dated 1867. “Now that’s an antique，” I boast. “Over 100 years old.” Of course it is marked and scratched and not in very good condition. “Sometimes age does that，” I tell Jenny. “But the marks are good marks. They show living， being around. That’s something to display with pride. In fact， sometimes， the more an object shows age， the more valuable it can become.” It is important that I believe this for my own self-esteem.