Flatware

Back in the olden days, when I was a kid, we had lots of people in the house and not lots of money. Not surprisingly, we also had a motley set of mismatched silverware. For reasons now unclear to me, this bothered me, and I longed for our silverware to match.

Also in those days, one could collect Betty Crocker coupons, embossed on assorted General Mills boxtops, and redeem them for a variety of household goods. I was an inveterate cereal box reader, and noticed one day that if one gathered enough coupons, they could be exchanged for silverware! So, I started intercepting the boxes on the way to the trash (Mom helped - she was not opposed to this project) and cutting out the coupons.

My task was helped along by the fact that all eight of us kids had cereal for breakfast every day, but it still took a good long while to amass the required points. I was singled-minded in my focus, however, and stuck with the task until I'd accumulated enough points to buy service for twelve. (I don't recall ever bothering to order the service pieces - they meant nothing to the ten year-old kid I was then.)

I still remember the day my loot arrived; opening all the boxes of brand spankin' new and shiny place settings. The smooth heft of the decent quality pieces, the orderly look of the table once the place settings were laid - these did my heart good.

Fast forward a decade or two. I'd, of course, left the original flatware behind when I left home. The stuff the kids and I used matched, but the forks were not high quality and bent easily. My old longing for quality tableware was intact, and so when I found some 'extra money' on the same day I happened to be in an outlet mall that had an Oneida store, I gave into my craving for order, and purchased service for 12, plus the serving pieces I now had gained an appreciation for.

After getting my loot home, I was no less enamored with the pieces than I had been as a child, and I've jealously guarded my matching flatware for a couple of decades now. Sadly, despite my best efforts, over time, a few of the pieces have been lost. Not discarded maliciously, but lost all the same.

I've tried not to care, but in my heart, I do.

Last month, I decided my heart would be happier if I made an attempt to find replacement pieces; it wouldn't hurt anything to look. My hairdresser scouts out antiques on the side, so I enlisted his help, sent him a photo of the missing items, and asked him if he knew of a way to replace them. He did know, but the cost for just those three items, plus shipping, was going to be almost half the cost of an entire new set of flatware. ($50 for ONE spoon???)

Sadly, I tried to set the notion aside. I reviewed the options. I could pay the king's ransom the internet was asking for the pieces. I could buy a whole new set and give my partial one away. I could see if I could sell my eleven remaining spoons for $40 each (a bargain!) and finance new silverware that way. Or, I could live with what I have. 

Reluctantly, I decided to just live with what I have; to pretend I have service for ten, plus extra pieces. The world will not end, most probably, just because I don't have Oneida service for twelve. Since getting the sad news from Dennis, I've been working to just let it go. Or, if not, to just buy new stuff. Either way, quit obsessing over it!

But then, but then. 

Last week, when I went in for my haircut, Dennis motioned to the sideboard. "I have a present for you," he said. My heart leapt. Surely not, but, maybe??? I opened the bag to find my three missing pieces of flatware. He had done what I couldn't convince myself to "waste the money" and do. He'd listened to the longing of my little OCD-leaning heart and re-completed my set.

I don't have words for how loved this makes me feel. I feel seen. And I feel it over and over again - every time I open my silverware drawer, and happily count to twelve. 

Good Is.