The Heart of the Matter

Photo credit: Judd Davis, WSFA

Happy Friday eve!

So, while putting out our coffee service it occurred to me -- I'm not so different than my former boss.  A collector of unusual glassware, she confided: "Each night I choose which one to hold my wine, depending on my mood."

In my case, I'm thinking my coffee mug collection.  Last year I made a point of reducing their number, keeping only those which evoke emotion.  Memories -- whether it be a gift from a friend or a memento I picked up on a particularly enjoyable getaway.

When I hold this, I still feel the warmth of the Orlando sun on my face, the surrounding noise, happy chatter.  How every little thing felt delicious.

Perhaps this is a phase I'm going through ... but I've little interest in the utilitarian.

This goes both ways, of course.  For instance.  These pretty little whatchamacallits were a wedding gift from my SIL -- the woman who professed to dislike me before we ever met.

 They're so not me, but I keep them in the back of a dresser drawer until they have occasion to visit.

Something else.  I don't think of so often anymore, but back in 2004 I threw away the outfit I was wearing when my mother passed away.  Every time I saw it hanging, the grief felt anew. 

Inanimate objects.  Physical substance.  It's all just matter.  That matters.

Where I'm going with this?  Truly, I've no idea.  I can't recall the names of my schoolteachers, the date of my graduation.  Even my first marriage.

On the other hand!  Almost every article on which my gaze falls, I recall its origin. 

A vintage pillow from my first estate sale .... 

..... the bulletin board discovered at the back of resale shop where I took 'me- myself-and-I' for a solo birthday excursion.

Even this armoire.  Single, at the time I could only afford the dresser.  Then, a co-worker's husband volunteered to pick it up at the resale shop and deliver to my apartment.  Stunned, when I opened the door to find Will had purchased both pieces.   I still chuckle remembering the look on his face when he realized I wasn't grateful in quite the manner he'd presumed.

Of course, our home's not all unicorns and fairy dust.  This 'only' child still struggles with the notion of compromise.  I may not be a fan of Tom's aircraft memorabilia, but he might say the same about my pottery collection.    

In the end?   Without consciously thinking about it, I may have finally achieved what's-her-name's end game: Surround yourself with only those things that bring you joy.   

Now, I'm going to go pour myself another cup of joy!

Thank you so much for spending a part of your day with me!

Hugs, Myra