I have spent a good portion of my life saving beautiful things.
You probably know exactly what I mean.
The dishes that are too special for an ordinary dinner. The good silverware that comes out for holidays. The beautiful tablecloth that stays carefully folded because someone might spill red wine on it. The expensive perfume we don't want to “waste.” The blouse we're saving for somewhere special.
We protect these things because we love them.
But lately I've been wondering: What exactly are we saving them for?
In my house, I have my mom's green Frankoma dishes. I have the silverware from my wedding. I have beautiful crocheted tablecloths made by my mother-in-law, Irene.
These aren't just things.
When I hold one of those green dishes, there is a connection to my mom. My wedding silverware represents the beginning of a marriage and all the ordinary and extraordinary meals Bob and I have shared since. Irene's crocheted tablecloths carry something even more personal—the hours her hands spent creating them, one stitch at a time.
And yet, because these things mean so much to us, our instinct is often to put them away.
Isn't that funny?
We Save What We Love
I understand why we do it.
We don't want the dish to chip.
We don't want the silver to tarnish.
We certainly don't want someone to drip spaghetti sauce onto a handmade crocheted tablecloth.
So we carefully wrap things, stack them, polish them and store them away. We tell ourselves we'll use them at Thanksgiving. Christmas. Easter. When the whole family comes. When we have a really special dinner.
Someday.
But I'm beginning to think someday has had enough of my beautiful things.
I want some of them back.
I want to see my mom's green dishes on my table. I want to hear my wedding silverware clink against a plate on an ordinary evening with Bob. I want to spread one of Irene's tablecloths across the table and admire all those stitches instead of keeping them perfectly preserved inside a closet.
Yes, something could happen to them.
But something is already happening to them when they're packed away.
They're missing my life.
Tuesday Is an Occasion
Maybe this is another thing I'm learning about beauty as I get older.
For years, I thought beautiful things required beautiful occasions.
Now I think beautiful things can create the occasion.
Put flowers in the vase and suddenly the kitchen looks happier.
Wear the perfume and an ordinary morning feels a little more luxurious.
Set the table with the good dishes and Tuesday night's dinner becomes something you notice.
Wear the earrings.
Light the candle.
Use the pretty napkins.
Put on the lipstick even if the day's biggest outing is the grocery store.
None of these things dramatically changes our lives. But collectively, they change the way we experience our lives.
And I'm becoming increasingly interested in that distinction.
Beauty Was Never Meant to Live in a Closet
There is another reason I want to use these things.
I want Miles to know them.
I don't want him to someday see a green Frankoma dish and hear, “Those belonged to your great-grandmother.”
I'd rather he remember them.
Gia used those.
Maybe he'll remember cookies piled on one. Maybe he'll remember Thanksgiving dinner or Sunday lunch. Perhaps one of Irene's crocheted tablecloths will be underneath a birthday cake, and he'll recognize it years from now because it was part of the background of his childhood.
That's how objects become heirlooms.
Not because we successfully kept them pristine.
Because we attached memories to them.
A chip in a dish might eventually have a story. A tiny stain on a tablecloth might remind us of a dinner when everybody laughed until they cried. A scratch on the wedding silver might represent one of thousands of meals shared across a marriage.
Perhaps signs of use don't diminish beautiful things.
Perhaps they prove that those things belonged to a life.
I'm Done Waiting for Someday
This doesn't mean I'm going to become careless with the things I treasure. I'll still wash delicate pieces carefully. I'll polish the silver. I'll protect Irene's handiwork.
But protecting something and never using it aren't the same thing.
I'm trying to find a better balance.
That applies to the perfume on my dresser and the dishes in my cabinet. It applies to clothes, jewelry, linens, candles and all the other little luxuries we sometimes ration as though another bottle, another Tuesday, another dinner or another beautiful moment will always be waiting for us.
I don't think beauty needs to be saved for the best parts of life.
Beauty can be part of what makes life good.
So I'm going to use Mom's green Frankoma.
I'm going to set the table with my wedding silverware.
I'm going to unfold Irene's crocheted tablecloths.
I'll wear the perfume and the jewelry and the good lipstick.
And if something eventually gets a scratch, a stain or a little chip?
I hope there's a wonderful story behind it.
Because I'm no longer saving my beautiful things for someday.
Someday is today.
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