Wine glasses bounce to the tile floor, shattering Lenox crystal shards across the kitchen. Our wedding crystal. It took more than a few years before we began using that crystal for non-occasion wine. For exactly that shattering reason. We’ve lost 4-5 glasses to fumbling fingers. Oh well.
I was raised believing china dinnerware was used only for special occasions, which meant Thanksgiving and Christmas. (Crystal wasn’t an issue because Mom didn’t have any and didn’t drink.) A set of silver flatware from my Smith grandparents was also safely stored and rarely seen.
My mother had two sets of fine china. One was her traditional wedding china, and I’m not sure from whence the second set came, possibly her aunt or my paternal grandmother. Regardless, the second set was far prettier in my eyes, with its simple design of wild violets and its matching purple glassware. Mom rarely used either set, however.
When the time came to downsize my mother’s house, sets of china were not the most desired pieces; but as the only daughter, I took the traditional wedding china. My brother could use the less-formal set. Nearly 18 years later, the formal set remains in a box in my garage, and my brother moved on from the set he had taken. Hand-offs ensued, and the full set of violet plates, serving pieces, and purple glasses sat in boxes at my home before winding up with my daughter.
While Mom believed in saving the “good” dishes for worthy occasions, I came to realize they were better off being used and enjoyed. (Of course, I have my own wedding china that only appears on holidays, but that is more a practical matter of space and the required washing by hand.) Though Rebecca’s record with breaking glass items is well-known in our family, I would rather her have, use, and break the dishes than have them end up in a thrift store or boxes in the garage.
This year, Rebecca and her boyfriend hosted our family Thanksgiving, a first for all of us. (And full disclosure: Adam was the head chef, and “Beatrice” was his first turkey. Rebecca is a capable sous-chef.) It was yet another meaningful step toward adult children successfully adulting, and one I celebrate.
When we walked in, I saw my mother’s dishes on the table, and my heart filled. It was unexpected and sweet. Granted, it was the only dinnerware the kids have with 5 matching place settings. Something about seeing Mom’s dishes on the table, the lovely lavender water glasses, pinged my heart. Memories and objects flowing through the generations. I guess this is why we pass it down.
Perhaps it’s time to polish and use that old silver flatware. It even has my grandparents’ monogrammed “S” on it, which happens to be my family’s monogram now, too. I’m not fond of shattered crystal in my kitchen, but mostly because I’m afraid of stepping on it. Worse stuff happens, and life is still good.
*And Thanksgiving dinner was fabulous.
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