Son the Second finally settled down from his nomadic post-grad school-early career phase of life. He finished his stint as a court clerk in the middle-of-nowhere Texas, and is now prepared to live in one place for more than twelve months at a time. He and Son the Third have been sharing a house for a year and a half now (and they’ are still speaking to each other, a major mom win here!) and he’s decided it is time for him to have a ‘style’ and to decorate his home.

Naturally, being a nomad for the last five years, he knew nothing about decorating styles, so TO THE INTERWEBS! After many hours, he decided he would do his office in ‘Dark Academia’ style. Then came the paint and wallpaper swatches. Since I didn’t have daughters, I never did the special occasion dress shopping thing, but I have to imagine this was just a little like that. The ‘oh that’s … uh … nice…’ moments, all the while desperately whispering under my breath, ‘don’t pick that. Don’t Pick THAT!” And some moments where I was genuinely impressed by his good taste.

Once he got the room painted and wallpapered, things got interesting—accessories. Dark Academia requires a lot of accessories—it is busy, bordering on maximalist, at least the way he’s wanting to do it. Now, being his mother’s son, just shopping online and buying accessories was too easy. And it was cheating because Dark Academia (according to him) really needs vintage pieces. So, the ‘rule’ was set; everything had to come from thrift shops, estate sales, garage sales, etc. No buying new decorative things.

So, I became his thrifting buddy . Often my weekends are spent treasure hunting with him. It’s a great way to get to spend time with my adult kiddo, so it’s awesome. But it’s also be an interesting time of reflection.

As we’ve perused various second-hand shops, we’ve come across items that make you wonder about their history. Some real treasures and some that someone may have treasured for reasons all their own. Being me, I wonder at the sorts of memories that were once attached to those things.

I also started noticing the memories that were attached to things I have. Which led me to discover, apparently, I have a style—who knew, it wasn’t intentional for sure!—Grandma-core. Those who know say this about the style:

Grandma core is a decorating style focused on creating a warm, nostalgic, and comforting space that evokes the cozy, eclectic charm of a grandmother’s home, blending vintage pieces, well-loved furniture, floral patterns, and collected sentimental items …. It prioritizes personality and comfort over clean lines and minimalism, featuring layered textures, antique finishes, well-curated clutter, and a mix of old and new pieces that tell a story.

Pieces that tell a story … yeah, that is definitely me.

What turned out to be really interesting was that I’d been ignoring a lot of the story the things surrounding me were telling.

Sometimes stories don’t turn out the way we hoped they would. Sometimes there are twists and turns, and tragic endings that aren’t a whole lot of fun. Certainly, that’s the way life works, isn’t it? I started discovering how many things I had in the house that were uncomfortable reminders of chapters that did not end well, characters in my life who did not turn out to be who I thought they were. Rather constant reminders of those things, staring at me from across the room.

One day Son the Second, in his very signature style, challenged me and said ‘Why don’t you just take those down? Do you really need those reminders?”

Of course, I had reasons to argue, but you know, he had a good point. And what’s the worst that could happen? I could always put things back out if I wanted. So, a bunch of things came off the walls and shelves and got tucked safely away.

I thought the blank spaces would bother me, but it didn’t take long to get used to them, and it’s been nice not having all those uncomfortable things staring down on me. What’s more, I’ve started noticing more and more the little things I’ve been collecting on our treasure hunts. And memories started popping up.

Memories like: We got lost looking for the place we found that fun little lamp. … He was so proud of me for learning to haggle (just a little) when I got that rug … The great artisan throw-pillow covers we found in the back room of our favorite thrift store while looking for dining room chairs for him-which we didn’t find until over a month later at a place across town. All these lovely reminiscences that smile at me as I walk through the house.

I’ve been surprised what a difference the change of (mental) scenery has made for me. It’s not like my house is full of entirely new stuff—just a few happy pieces here and there. Funny how loud they speak now, without all of those things that would scowl at me and drag me back to places that I didn’t really want to be. I’ve heard that a change is as good as a rest, and I’m pretty sure this one has been.

Have you got objects at home that speak to you? Tell me about them in the comments.