Sunday, September 2, 2012

Deceptive Friday

 On Friday evening, my Dad and I went out to take his Ural Motorcycle on a test drive. It had been a really long time for me, being on a motorcycle, even though this was still pretty different, but I still got to remember somewhat of how it feels to drive a motorcycle again. As we drove, the sun was shining brightly just before setting and dark, grey, clouds floated straight over head. The weather was simply perfect and once we began to get out of the city a little more, all I could see was open road and mountains. The air smelt perfect and I had a permanent smile on my face. I'm not sure what it's always been, but I can't keep from smiling when I get to go fast in something. Maybe it's inherited.
As the evening went on, Everett and I decided to start a little marshmallow roasting fire in back of my parents. We had a short little s'mores date, just the two of us, and it was perfect and sugar filled. A few of our friends and family came over later to sit around the fire and eventually my oldest brother and SIL who are traveling though. We stayed up way too late, ate way too much sugar, and saw my amazing family.

I really couldn't have asked for a better evening to tell you the truth. My favorite ones are so spontaneous like that. I didn't understand why I got such an amazing one either. I gave Everett a warm bath to wash all the marshmallow stickies, coal, and dirt from his hands and face and I read him his favorite book before putting him to bed.
As I walked down stairs and turned on the kitchen light, I noticed some vintage (never been used) pots from my great Grandpa sitting over by our sliding back door. I turned my head as I followed a trail of broken glass all the way across my kitchen to two kitchen shelves fallen and splintered off the wall and ALL my precious dished scattered everywhere. I could list all the amazing things that were shattered into a million pieces, but I won't bore you with that. The dishes I had, I knew were priceless, and the emotions I felt seeing all the little pieces across the floor was unexplainable. I know it might sound silly that I would be so emotional about a few dishes, but I am attached to my dishes. It took me so, so long to collect the small amount I have, and I wondered how much more vintage dish estate sale hunting I'd have to do before I could somewhat replace what had been broken. They meant so much to me that I felt like part of my heart shattered with some of those dishes and was swept up into the trash with them. My sister came over that night, mostly for encouragement, she knew how I felt and helped me clean up the disaster. It meant a lot to me and I'm so glad she understood what I was feeling. I stayed up until almost 2 a.m. that night trying to glue some things, but mostly in vein.

After all the frustration and tears, though, the more I think about it, it kinda taught me a lesson. I put a lot of time and effort into some of my hobbies especially hunting for rare vintage things for cheap. It's a big part of my heart, but after all the emotions, I stepped back and knew that even though it's a part of me, it's just not enough to compare to what I still have. A small part of me broke, but it just makes the majority even better. So, I'm feeling thankful. More thankful now for what I have than what I had before. Sometimes life has to teach you some things in ways you hate.

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