We had dinner at my grandparent’s house recently. As we sat down for supper, I noticed the glass goblets my grandma had set out for my two children to use.
My one-year-old and three-year-old children.
I mentioned this might not be a good idea, but my grandma insisted it would be fine. We had a sippy cup for Harper, but Ellie, thanks to GG, got to drink out of a pretty fancy cup while
not eating dinner. She thought she was pretty hot shit.
And she was, actually.
She was very careful and attentive as she sipped her homemade apple cider at the table. I was impressed.
Later that night on the drive home, I was looking at the pictures I took of my children while we were there. Drinking out of glass goblets, roaming the yard I used to play in as a child, running around the barns I knew growing up, and it hit me. I understood why my three year old drank out of an antique glass at dinner that evening.
Something my grandma understood because she’s just so wise.
Why do we save all our best for others?
Saving our finest for a special occasion that might not ever come?
My wedding china is sitting in a box in our basement. I don’t think we’ve ever actually used it. I’m afraid it will break.
But in the grand scheme of things, who cares? My wedding china doesn’t matter at all.
My marriage, that matters. My family, that matters. Feeding my friends, that matters.
My wedding china doesn’t matter.
And that’s what my grandma knew as we ate dinner that night.
Because living into your mid-eighties teaches you things. It teaches you that eating dinner with your great-grandkids on a crisp fall evening is special. It shows you that a three year old drinking homemade cider from trees in your yard should be made important because it is. It reminds you what’s worth getting out the fine china for and what’s not.
So tonight, we’re eating dinner on our wedding china. We might just be having sandwiches, but this life, this time we have, it’s worth celebrating.
Thanks, GG, for the reminder. And cheers.