Broken China

I am a firm believer in burning decorative candles and using your good china as often as possible; that means for everyday occasions not just on holidays. This morning, after savoring a couple of cups of coffee, I decided to load the dishwasher. By the time added the china cup that I had been using for my morning dose of caffeine to the mix, my hands were soapy and wet and the cup flew out of my hand. After colliding with a low-ball glass stained with almond milk the handle shattered in three pieces. My first reaction - I cursed. I believe the word began with an F.

The expletive summoned my husband of 20 years to the room. The moment he saw what happened I heard him growl. The growl began as the word "No" but then rumbled into the deep guttural sound of frustration and disappointment.

I gave him the only response I could. I said "I know" while doing my best to match his primeval snarl.

The china, a gift for our two decade long anniversary, complimented my mother’s china and my grandmother’s china perfectly. On special occasions I mix and match the three patterns for a stunning effect that would make Martha Stewart proud.

As I dug the handle pieces out of the back of the dishwasher I heard my husband conclude, “This sucks but it is only china.”

Serendipitously, we had had an earlier conversation of the value of things verses the value of the people in our lives.

“I enjoyed it while I had it,” I added attempting to calm my own feelings of despair.

I finished the kitchen and returned to a pile of papers I was sorting while keeping up on my Facebook page. I came across a post from a friend poetically sharing her feelings about her grandmother’s death this week. The post said she was happy she had the memories of her grandmother and I was instantly reminded that I don’t cherish my grandmother’s china or my mother’s because they are complete sets (which they aren’t) but because when I use them I am reminded of the strong women who came before me.

Women who honored family and time spent with family and friends and who were afraid to use the dishes they loved so much. I immediately poured myself another cup of coffee in one of the three remaining glasses of my own set that one day will be handed down to my son’s wives (when they have wives).

I hope my future daughter's enjoy them.
I hope they use them – slippery hands and all.