Dished

These dishes were my grandmothers.  She called them her “evaday” dishes, not everyday, but “evaday”.

When my grandmother passed away my mother took them.

They have been in my parents kitchen since the day my mom took them home.

Last Friday my niece called to tell me she was redoing her kitchen, she said, “do you want these,” before the final word was out of her mouth I said YES!

It’s not that I need the dishes, I have my own.  I have my own “evaday” dishes, two sets in fact, I have my grandmother’s china, I have Christmas dishes, I have more dishes than any one person needs.

I didn’t need the dishes, I needed THOSE dishes.

You see, those dishes represent much more to me than a plate to put food on.  Those dishes represent memories of the two women I loved most in this world, my mother and my grandmother.

The set isn’t perfect, there are some chips and there are six sets of some, four of others and seven or eight of others, but to me, this is a perfect set.

I remember sitting with my grandmother at her kitchen table, mornings when it was just the two of us.  She would drink her coffee and in a matching cup cover the bottom with a few drops of that decaf and fill the rest with Pet milk for me. Over our morning coffee we would talk.

These same plates served our family countless Sunday dinner’s as we crowded around my grandmother’s dining room table.

Fried chicken, chicken casserole, ham, turkey, fresh vegetables from my grandfather’s garden and dessert, my grandmother always made dessert!  But it wasn’t so much about the food, it was more about the family time we shared there.

When my mother took the plates I had already left home, but for years mama would set the table with these plates.

Over the years we have eaten everything on these plates, but the plates really don’t matter, it is about the memories that were created at the tables where they were used.

Memories of family times, times that included laughter, tears, arguments, debates, deep conversation and lots of love.  Like the simple design featured on the plates, we bloomed at those tables where we came together to eat, we grew strong and in our own ways beautiful.

I’ve now washed the plates and will put them in a cabinet in my kitchen.  I don’t plan on using them, it is just comforting to know they are here.

I have a feeling on one of those days when I am desperately missing my mom or craving one of those conversations with my grandmother I will pull one out.

I’ll place my meal on the plate and I will remember and I’ll feel closer to the two women who helped to shape my life and made me appreciate the simplicity of a plate and the incredible gift of the memories they represent.

4 thoughts on “Dished

  1. I love the dishes and your reason for needing them! I have dishes that I don’t use but like knowing that I have them. I hope one of my kids will want my grsndmother’s depression glass or the carnival glass bowl her brother brought her when he returned from a trip. Loved your post!

  2. I think many of us have those items that brings back precious memories. I have my mother-in-law’s salt container. It is a piece of old McCoy pottery that she kept her salt stored in. I have been around the family for 50 years and it was always in her kitchen and I can see her reaching for the salt to season her cooking with. My son has her “eating” table at his house. When I sit at that table, I have a sense of calm and well being. I have some of my mom’s dishes and remember what she served in them. I try to make some of the favorite foods my families have handed down over the years. At Christmas I make Momma’s homemade candy. For the Littrell Reunion I make Aunt Audie’s chocolate delight and for the Parker Reunion I make Grandma Parker’s boiled chocolate icing. As we get older, our memories become sweeter and we learn a peace of mind that our family instills in us.

    • Agree Bobbie and thanks for sharing your memories here. It’s too bad memories are wasted on the young, but I guess that is what makes them more precious as we get older.

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