slice of life tuesday :: meaning

As I unwrapped each dish carefully, I wondered how many meals my grandmother served on these dishes. Did she save them for special occasions? Or did they come out of the china cabinet every day? I wondered what kinds of conversations happened around that dinner table and how many times my dad pushed his peas around these beautiful floral plates (he never did like vegetables.)

In my parents’ recent move from Florida to the Seattle area, they had to downsize a little bit. I was fortunate enough to receive a few things from their vast collection of treasures. They’ve been settling into their new digs the past few months and earlier this week, the box of my grandma’s dishes arrived in my house.

It’s amazing how much meaning we associate with certain objects. Looking around my house, there’s a lot of meaningless stuff, but what always catches my eye (and my heart) are the things with a story. My Grandma Milly’s wedding band on my ring finger that I used to admire on her hand (we had the same sized fingers), my husband’s childhood “Winnie the Pooh” book collection, the magic wand I used as a child to grant people’s wishes.

But now, all of these items hold an even deeper meaning. They will be the things my daughter looks at as she grows up. They hold the stories that I will tell her about her grandparents and great-grandparents — the ones she will some day roll her eyes at me and say, “Geez, Mom! I’ve heard that story a million times!” Nevertheless, I will tell her the stories again and again. After all, they are her stories, too.

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