I heard a thunk awhile back. I was in our bedroom and when I looked up, I saw that a picture was missing from the wall.
When my grandmother passed away last year, I was fortunate enough to receive some lovely early 60's prints of roses that she used to hang in her bedroom (above her tufted pink velvet headboard!). Everything about them remind me of my grandmother. The style, the pink, the roses. Grandma.
Needless to say, I was most concerned to look up and find a bracket upon the wall with no picture attached.
I pulled the dresser away from the wall to rescue the print. Grasping the frame, I pulled it to safety and flipped it over to examine the bracket situation.
This is what I found:
I laughed aloud to see the multiple holes left behind by the lazy and unreliable bracket. They had made by my grandmother when the picture had fallen off the wall for her!
I can just picture her chastising the situation in her characteristic Italian way and forcing that bracket into a new hold ... again. I still smile imagining it.
It's quite apparent I inherited a durable piece of art, so I too, will just shove the bracket into a new position on the back of the frame every time it topples from it's post. And truly, I'll do so with pleasure as I run my fingers over the same spot my grandmother's once did.