Grandmother's handbag

 When I was a child, I  loved to go through my Grandmother's handbag. Looking back, I am rather surprised that she let me. But she did; especially in church. I kept myself occupied and quiet looking through her pictures, counting her change, searching for gum and mints.

I love the way it smelled; her purse. I cannot describe it but if I close my eyes, even now, I can remember what it smelled like.
She would let me open her compact mirror and doodle on her notepad.
I blogged recently about a travel bag my own granddaughter uses when we travel to occupy herself. I didn't have one of those. I had my grandmother's "pocket book."
I can still recall all the things she kept in there and how they were placed. The bag itself changed from time to time but the contents never did.
It's odd the things I seem to remember.
I hope I never forget.