I got these bowls this weekend. They belonged to the lovely lady who once lived in the house that will, in one week, be mine. She seemed like my kind of girl. She had blackberry bushes and made jam. I can't wait to make jam! She had an apple tree and made apple pies. She canned tomatoes and made fresh squeezed orange juice for breakfast.
I like her.
Her son gave me these bowls, along with a desk, a high fi, a box of sewing pins and a book of embroidery stitches. Oh, and a very cool, mod looking night table. It felt a little weird to be taking these bowls from his parent's house, but he assured me he wanted me to have them. I told him that I love to cook and every time I used them I'd think of his mom. His eyes welled up, not for the first time that day, and he said he'd love that.
When we found out the sellers wanted to meet us, we thought it was a bit strange. Why? To make sure they really wanted us in their childhood home? To ask what we were going to change and then give us the veto? But it turned out to be a lovely, sweet and moving experience. 2 of the 3 brothers were there, and they told us about growing up in that house, the windows they broke and the neighbors they still know. They shared their family history with us-- the family who is going to make some new history in that house. I think it was a way for them to remember their parents and their past. Sharing it with us it helped them to keep the memories alive.
By the end of our meeting, I felt readier than ever to move in. I want to pick up where their mom left off, caring for my 3 little ones in that house and mixing up some pancakes in those bowls. In our own little way, we are making history.