When my mother was a young newlywed, she worked in Boston. Each day on her way to work she passed a store that had these fabulous dishes in the window. They were elegant, vibrant, each hand painted and the design slightly different on the saucers from the cups from the plates. She could just see those plates being used as she entertained and served beautiful, delicious food.
She scrimped and saved and piece by piece she began to build a set of the dishes she coveted. When she finally had enough to serve a meal for four, she invited friends over and cooked a special dinner to serve on her stunning china.
It was then that she realized the design on the plates was so busy, they didn't compliment the food. Any food. All those perfect hand painted designs were too bright. Mom knew then that she would have been better off buying simple white plates. She stopped collecting her dream set, and they were relegated to decorating the dish cabinet. My sister has them now, the jewel bright colors winking out from the shelves they perch on. I don't think they've had food on them in 60 years or so. They are a bittersweet reminder to me. A reminder to be careful what I wish for, and to keep things simple. And a reminder that things so beautiful they make me ache to own them are not always what I will enjoy living with.
1 comment:
Your blog refreshes me every time, even when I have spent the whole day with you!
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