Here is a heavy cotton damask tablecloth that I could probably cover my car with, four or five yards of the blackest fine, wool gabardine and three vintage woven towels. There is also an expanse of cream colored raw silk and at least a dozen other assorted damask tablecloths, all from the 20's or 30's, like my pop who was born in '26 or '24 depending on who you talk to.
It also occurred to me that I packed this box myself back in January on my last trip home when Dad and I had good, meaningful conversations and said our goodbyes. I'll be taking a hiatus from this space for the duration of the memorials and celebrations and take inspiration from all these glorious pieces of pure potential. He's like that.