Thisvase sits on the windowsill, and it keeps me company when I do dishes:
I've had this little gem since I was in preschool. My very first friend, MaryAnn, had a grandma I adored. MaryAnn's grandma owned this vase, and I was fascinated by it. All those little shells were so intriguing to a Midwest farm girl who had never seen the ocean. I also remember thinking that when I turned my head just right, the handles on the vase looked like arms crossed behind the back. From there it wasn't a stretch to look at the neck of the vase as the frame of a lovely lady in a long hoop skirt, and I imagined the vase coming to life as a youthful lady in the 1800's who was coyly waiting to be asked to waltz at her very first dance.
One day while I was admiring the vase, MaryAnn's grandma smiled and kindly offered: "Honey, would you like to take it home with you?" I was so startled and so thrilled, I barely knew what to say. But I clearly remember bobbing my little head up and down quite enthusiastically, and heading home with this treasure.
Over the years, this vase held many gifts of dandelion bouquets and sprigs of violets, lovingly picked by me and given to my mom. When I left home, I took the vase with me. The first time Kelsey picked dandelions for me and brought them in the house, I placed them in this little vase. It was one of those moments of clarity when I realized the passage of time, and my place within it. I'd moved from the receiver of the gift of the vase, to the giver of the gift of flowers for the vase, to the receiver of the gift of flowers for the vase.
Now, more than a decade after Kelsey first gave me flowers for this little vase, I realize I'm in another stage. The kids have outgrown their enthusiasm for picking dandelions and violets and rushing into the house, breathless with anticipation as they offer me a token of their love in the form of pretty weeds. While the vase usually stands empty of flowers these days, it holds something even more precious: a lifetime of memories.
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