Tomorrow is my mother's birthday. It would have been her 79th. The past 17 months have found me in deep reflection, and I discovered that there is danger in looking at the past disingenuously. Whether sugarcoating it or cynically eyeing it through a pair of old rusty glasses, both extremes prove equally unhelpful. My goal has been to find balance between the hard truths and the beautiful expressions of love that filled my childhood and identify how they shaped me into the quirky woman I am today. Safe to say it is a BIG goal.
One beautiful expression of love from my momma is my china. When I set it out for guests, I am reminded about how it came to be mine. It isn't fine china, bought in a fancy store, or found at an estate sale or antique store. No, mine is grocery store china that I never really wanted.
Growing up was a challenge for me, and I spent a lot of years embarrassed by my parents. They were not all that sophisticated and when I was young there were many years of severe financial problems. I worked from a very young age to pay for things I wanted and needed, things they could not afford. Once we moved to San Antonio, they rented a house without wheels. For a family who used to dream about upsizing to a double-wide mobile home, a house with a foundation felt like the slice of normal I had always wanted.
My parents always dealt with plenty or want with dignity, there was just a lot more want than plenty. No matter how poor we were, my mom was traditional and wanted me to have a hope chest full of things I would need for married life. In her mind, that included a full 12-piece place setting of china.
Our local Randall's grocery store was selling pieces for pennies on the dollar if the purchaser bought so many $$ worth of groceries. Every couple of weeks new pieces were introduced, including platters, casserole dishes, sugar and creamer, salt and pepper, teapots, etc. You name it, they sold it.
The pattern was silver rimmed with dainty pale blue flowers, and a little peach included for good measure. Before I knew it, I was presented with random pieces of the set for every occasion. My mom was excited to be able to give me something so "nice". After a few years I had every item they made packed away for my future home, which we both assumed would find me barefoot, pregnant, and making my own butter while my husband was out bringing home the bacon for me to fry. That obviously never happened because I avoided commitment and found myself choosing the single life. I did want to get married and have kids, but not in the traditional ultra-religious way of my upbringing. Marriage was scary, and I didn't want to parent alone, so that dream slowly but surely died over 50 years. But at least I had a full set of grocery store china.
True confession: I never really loved the pattern. My taste was always more modern and I would have preferred to inherit her wedding china, but I never had the heart to tell her. That set of dishes has moved to all of my homes and is currently taking up residence in my kitchen cabinets.
Now, I make enough money that I could afford to replace it with something that suits my style, but I know that I will never part with it, because the love behind the gift makes my heart sing. My mom saved every penny she could to give me those dishes. Despite our difficult relationship that set reminds me that even with our family dysfunction there was deep love, perseverance in terrible times, and pure, sacrificial gifts. It is the finest china I own and I will never part with it.
Happy Birthday mom, I love and miss you!
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