I often heard my father or his brothers say “Tack så mycket” when we left through the back door of my grandparent’s house after we’d stopped in for a visit. And Grandma would answer back “Var så god.” Their custom of saying thanks, and you’re welcome.
April 1, 1981 was the day my grandparent’s house and household items were sold. They had moved into a nursing home and what was left behind was sold at auction.
Back then, my husband and I lived in Nebraska, and I drove home for the sale. Already married five years, we had a house and didn’t need a bed or dining room set, but I did buy an old stained brown wooden chair that had set on their back porch, and the old white painted chair that sat in their bathroom.
This morning I sat in the white chair—now setting in my kitchen— to put on my shoes, and realized it’s already been thirty years since I brought this chair home.
Who else sat in this chair, besides my grandparents and family? Was it handed down through the family when they married in 1918 and needed furniture? Or bought at an auction like how I had acquired it?
I’ll never know, but as I mentally think “Tack så mycket for the chair, Grandma,” I can hear her Swedish voice say, “Var så god.”
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