the parlor

Grandma's parlor was a place of mystery.

Well, actually, the whole house was somewhat off limits. I remember as children when we went to aunts and uncles houses we would rollick through the house, not wrecking anything, but moving with ease. Grandma, never in the best of health from my earliest recollection, was a woman of principle and woe to him who breached whichever one in question! I didn't exactly fear her, but distance was the prudent thing. So there never was that exploration abandonment within her house anywhere.

But the parlor - the mere word isn't used anymore. let alone the concept - from this perspective 60 + years later remains a dark, dark place, with dark, stiff furniture and a need to pass through quickly or not enter at all! I remember only one time when the adults gathered there with Grandma and we were told tightly that she was having one of her "spells." To this day I don't know if that was heart related or asthma attacks. We were told just to go and play.

And play we did outside in the creeks and meadow, throwing indoor caution to the winds and frolicking to our hearts content.

Yet the parlor still looms.