A long time ago, when I was young, my Mother got me these spoons that had my initial on them. I don't know if it was before my parents divorced or after, but I remember them distinctly afterwards. My name being Rebecca, everyone called be Becca, so I these spoons had an upper case B on them. There were several different designs, in several different shapes, but it was a great way at the time to tell who's silverware was "Mom's" and who's was "Becca's". Thinking back on it I believe she had J's on her's.
Anyway, those spoons (possibly even forks and knives, I can't remember for certain) were used in our home from the time I was about ten to the time I moved out at sixteen. Even then Mom had them. Years went by and at some point she gave me all the spoons that had a B on them. It was one of those "priceless" moments where you look down at the item and even if they had come from the dollar store, it didn't matter, because those were "YOUR" spoons.
I went through a momentary embarrassment phase between my two room apartment in Lakewood and my double wide trailer in Peninsula where I considered getting rid of them. I couldn't bring myself to do so though, and so they moved. Which was a good thing because I think those were the only silver pieces we had, the rest of our utensils were plastic. Then we moved from the trailer to a house, didn't even think of getting rid of them then. Once more there was a moment, from the house in Maple Heights to the place with my father on Sanibel, where I was ready to let them go. I'd had them forever, I was moving without so many things and trying valiantly to get rid of "stuff". You know what I'm talking about. The clutter you keep because it reminds you of something in your past and you aren't really sure if you need it or not, but you keep holding on to it. I was following Flylady very dilligently and working through my pack rat habits and thought, "I don't *need* these anymore."
Lucky for me when I made the suggestion (we got rid of all of our silverware that day) my wife stepped up and said to me, "You can't get rid of those, you've had them since you were a little girl." I looked at her and smiled brightly. "It's alright," I said. "When we move, we'll look for silverware that makes us smile, and these won't fit in." (Flylady fans say it with me, "If it doesn't make you smile, don't keep it!")
With a shy smile at me, my wife said, "They do make me smile. We'll keep those, they'll always fit in our house. I can't imagine getting rid of them."
It was an eyeopener for me. Something that I had thought I was holding on to because they'd always been around, something that I thought "I" was the only one who really was clinging to, was liked so much by my partner that she wasn't willing to get rid of them. I can't really remember if I cried (I did a lot of crying back then... no, wait... I just do a lot of crying.), but I do remember feeling a strange sense of relief as I put them into a box of "keep".
I've never thought of getting rid of them since then. There's like... three different designs and a couple are long handled spoons, but they belong in my house, in my heart. I don't always use them. There's a normal set of silverware in the house, and I've given up hope of finding a set that truly makes me "smile". (Have you ever tried to go shopping for silverware? I like the set we have right now, but I don't think there will ever be the "perfect" set. Mainly because I think the grandparents all have them.) Every time I see those "B" spoons though I think, "Yeah, that's me."
And every once in a while, when you just want a little touch of home, a little touch of little you, you reach for that "B" spoon. At least I do.
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