Perspective

On Sunday, after a short string of minor incidents that left me feeling like crawling back into bed and starting the day over, this happened:

Earlier in the day, before I descended into the doldrums, we'd had friends visit for brunch and had a proper tea party, using the tea cups given to me by my mother, many of which had belonged to both my grandmothers. My paternal grandmother, whom I haven't written much about yet other than her unique recipe instructions ("beat the bejesus out of it") and predilection for giving family members their nicknames, originally owned the majority of the cups.

I'm not a collector and I don't like to accumulate things. My pockets, however, are full of little bits of leaves and and stones and pine cones from a certain six year old who joyfully fills our house with her collections as quickly as I purge them.

But I love my tea cups.

As a child, I remember when my Mum would bring them out for her afternoon Bridge tournaments and for Sunday dinners. I would gently run my finger around the rims and try to decide which was my favourite. (The blue one, always the blue one...)

A few years ago when I was visiting my family in Toronto, my mother told me to choose which ones I loved most and we carefully wrapped them in tissue and tea towels and gently put them in my carry-on. Since then, they've been tucked away in a cupboard awaiting a small display cabinet in my kitchen which is so far down my project list we may have moved before I actually install it. But they come out occasionally when I have tea devotees in the house and we all raise our pinkies to sip a nice cup of tea.

Sunday was one of those days, before things went downhill. Later, as I scowled around the kitchen tidying up, this particular cup slipped out of my hand and before it even hit the sink and arranged itself into three new pieces, I felt angry tears and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The issues of the day ultimately resolved themselves, and I set the broken cup aside for later repair work. It may never hold tea again, but it sure will look pretty in that future display cabinet.

Perspective gained.

And then emphasized two days later when an earthquake shook a poverty-stricken country many miles away from my solid, comfortable home and its one broken tea cup.
My charity of choice is Doctors Without Borders.