making space
October 14, 2015 § 6 Comments
Prior to our move I cursed lost storage given to unwanted wedding gifts. Kitchen and dining room doors and drawers consumed with an outdated extravagance that sat unused for want of an occasion. Rows of crystal and china canvased in dust; a page torn from someone else’s great expectations.
My husband and I did not choose a wedding or the responsibility of begging gifts that did not suit our wants. We begrudgingly acknowledged my in-laws’ requests for ceremony and accordingly registered for traditional items out of respect for their ideals. Simple and unpretentious in our needs, these gifts felt false hidden in plain sight behind the doors of our daily routines.
As we prepared to move I considered selling these objects at a loss, just to be free of their cumbersome bulk. I engaged multiple buyers in genuine invitations to purchase old patterns hoping to ease our move. I set goals that each corner of our new home would be limited to a functional beauty unhindered by unused objects.
Then, I did something I might never have predicted given fifteen years of rambling diatribes against the frivolousness of these objects. Yesterday I unpacked each piece and placed them in a new corner of our lives.
Front and center, in a bookcase of glass and pine, I stacked plates beside rows of crystal for a new expectation. Tea with my daughter and Sunday dinners, family holidays and daily decoration. Marveling at the simplicity of their elegance against the humble lines of unpolished wood shelves, it seemed remarkable that these same pieces had been so long untended.
Distractedly I let myself remember the day my fingers first traced the pattern around so many choices and childhood afternoons past at my grandmother’s kitchen table; recalling intuitive moments of aesthetic appreciation for something intimately known. Fleeting moments of forgotten daydreams and dress up without the pretentiousness of pretending a grander purpose.
I let go of the formality of someone else’s expectations and started creating a simpler dream for beautiful pieces; making space in our lives for something old and something new.
scribblechic 
Yay! Good for you. I inherited my mother’s crystal when she died. For years, I called it “my mother’s crystal” and woe be unto anyone who chipped–or worse–broke it. My brother heard me one day and said, “It’s your crystal.” I am working on feeling less anxious when I use it. And I do use it, along with my grandmother’s china, which I also inherited. It makes me feel connected to them and their more genteel way of living.
I hadn’t considered the responsibility of inheriting keepsakes from another’s history. I’m going to embrace creating a comfortable tenderness for a casual nostalgia with my children that allows for imperfections and play.
I’ll bring wine and cheese over next time. Break out the crystal. 🙂
A perfect excuse to sample a new Zin and celebrate a season of happy changes!!
I love that you don’t question the rhythms but just respect them:).
You give me too much credit, Kay. I could write a separate piece about my clumsy, stubborn struggles. Clarity is much simpler with hindsight.