Remember the trip to Crate and Barrel that kinda sorta started this all in a round about way? If I say, “The angst-induced trip to Crate and Barrel,” it sounds all dramatic. And, anyways, we went to C&B on the 15th of February after a lovely 14th of February that involved lunch at Purple Cafe and Wine Bar followed by a Cirque du Soleil show (Kurios) at Marymoor Park. So, no, I was not sobbing in the aisles of C&B. I assumed my normal expression…stupidly bedazzled. It’s all so bright and shiny and pretty. I hardly ever make it to the furniture and linens. It is all about the kitchen section. I have to tell myself each and every time I go there, “How many wine glasses do two people need?” Not ask. Not remind. Tell.
Anyways, the husband and I entered C&B. Actually, I take that back. The husband patted me and told me to send him a text when I was done at C&B and went to find something to do that did not involve cookware. C&B is to me what Home Depot is to him. He announces, “Going to Home Depot!” and I know he’ll likely be gone a couple of hours. However, he often comes home with nothing but a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face. I, on the other hand, do not leave C&B empty-handed.
I had nothing and everything in mind as I perused the aisles. And then I saw them.
Yes. Those bowls are on my counter. Not in the store.
taken captivated by them for a couple of reasons: they’re bright, shiny and new. And, they remind me of my Grandma.
My Grandma is in her 90’s. I love her to the moon and back. She’s lucky if she’s 5’0” tall. I am 5’8”. I have been 5’8” since I was in 8th grade. Yeah. Take that in. I towered over the boys. To this day I tower over most of my family. Good thing most boys caught up. And my husband digs a tall chick. Know what Grandma told me back in the day? She told me that if she ever saw me slouching that she would kick me in the butt. I never doubted that she would. As a result, I have very good posture.
Anyways, the bowls. Ceramic. Stackable. Each a different hue. Glorious bowls. Grandma has ceramic bowls. They’re probably older than dirt (I told my Mom I bought new bowls and was getting rid of bowls that I had had for 10+ years and she told me those were young bowls. This is my Grandma’s daughter. You get the idea.) Grandma’s bowls may have once been bright colored, but I’ve never known them as such. To me they’ve always been a washed-out yellow, a faded blue. And I never thought to myself, “Wow! Grandma needs new bowls!” Because Grandma’s bowls are like a faded pair of jammies…much loved and held onto. Grandma’s bowls make me think of her potato salad. Rich and creamy. They make me think of her blackberry dumplings and how we would pick those berries in the field next to their house. She would make the dumplings fresh the same day. And they would be served with cream…real cream…obtained from Mr. Faxon who lived a couple of miles up the road. From whom we purchased our milk in gallon-sized glass jars (unpasteurized goodness) that came with a couple of inches of cream on top. Sigh. Now I’m craving blackberry dumplings and potato salad.
My bowls are new. But they take me straight back to my childhood.
3 thoughts on “The Bowls”
I want those bowls!
They are a glorious thing, aren’t they?