The objects that keep our loved ones close
This morning, after waking up and feeding the cats, I went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I opened the cabinet where we keep our mugs and pulled out one with “Soul Sister” painted on the side. I smiled as I thought about my friend Ileen who gave me the mug for Christmas in 2023. She passed away in February 2024.
Ileen lived in London, and she had a gift for relishing the little things in the most extraordinary way. To her, a good cup of English tea was equivalent to a glass of finely aged wine. I can still hear her booming voice reminding me to take the little things seriously. “Queen,” she would say using my assigned nickname, “a good cup of tea in a favorite mug is one of many tiny joys sprinkled throughout the day. Remember that.” Then she’d turn and walk away laughing, on her way to take a long hot shower – another one of her tiny joys.
After letting my tea steep, I took down a special jar of honey from the shelf above the teapot. I bought it from a woman who lives down the street and has kept bees for years. This honey was harvested in the spring of 2020, and it tastes like an explosion of wildflowers. I have half a jar left (I save it for special moments), and each time I take a small serving, I say a silent thank-you to Michele and her bees. Another tiny joy.
When I pulled out a spoon from the silverware drawer to use with the honey, I smiled at the name Mary Ryan on the handle. It belonged to my friend, Lucy, who died in 1991. Lucy left me in charge of her estate and this antique spoon, which bears her middle name, marks what turned out to be a pivotal time in my life, a time when I felt alone and unsure about my future.
When Lucy died, her lawyer suggested I move into her home to handle her belongings. That physical move rearranged my whole life. It sparked the end of an unhealthy relationship and a job I hated, and it tempered the insecurity I felt about moving forward with my passion for speaking and writing. Lucy’s faith in me to handle such a big assignment gave me courage and confidence and, over time, this shift in energy opened doors for opportunities I never could have imagined. The little silver spoon is another source of joy for me, a reminder from Lucy that change is a friend to be trusted.
Sometimes I look around our home and think about the things I hold onto that are lovely yet devoid of the messages and memories that spark meaning and joy. Why hold on to these things when I can make space that will highlight the remaining little joys that matter most of all?
It’s times like these when I’m inspired to choose an item or two to give to someone I care about. As I wrap the object in pretty paper, I like to imagine that the gift could become a source of joy in someone else’s life, one with a memory attached that lives on long after I’m gone.
Love,
Cheryl
