1800s Spode DemiTasse
Found at the Avignon International Fair over twenty years ago.
A setting for eight.
Plates, saucers, demitasses, teacups, creamer and sugar bowl to match.
While carrying them back to the cupboard I tripped.
Five demitasses danced to dust.
…
We hold people, places, things which in time became part of who we are. They tell us our story, hold our memories, feelings, they gather our history as we love and live with them. They become intertwined with our lives: Connected like dot to dot to one person thing or another, helping us recall who we are, where we have been and what we have learned. Little things, big moments, pat on the back emotion, one drop after another while filling our souls with defining moments that remind us:
This is who you are.
When the demitasses hit the floor I remembered a moment in time when my boyfriend John died.
I was carrying a large salad bowl that someone had brought over for the funeral, I tripped and it shattered to the ground. As I stooped down to pick up the broken pieces it spoke symbolically to me of my time with John, Some pieces I could pick up and hold knowing they would always be a part of me, some pieces the ones with sharp edges I was careful to pick up the fear of being cut reminded me of his sudden death and the pain and sorrow, some pieces had no form no recognizable connection except that they were part of the bowl. I thought of those as parts of John I had yet to discover and would only hear about and hold true. And then there were the pieces shattered into shards, that became dust or maybe shining stars leading into tomorrow, pieces of a future I did not know yet knew he would not be there with me.
We let go, we hold on, we become who we are over time.
Gather what you love and hold it within.
Everything has a story to tell.
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Some pieces are remembered, others drift away and there are shards that cannot be seen yet somehow without our knowledge they light the way.
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