I knew the woman that owned this cup. She was a woman with a great sense of style and appreciation for color, design, and unusual shapes. She held this cup gently when she needed a cup of comfort tea. I can see the worn marks on the gold handle where she did so. She always washed this special cup by hand. I knew this woman well. She collected objects she loved, stored them, cared of them. Took them out to use and admire them.
I saw most of her belongings strewn around Goodwill yesterday. First I had found a Japanese box of wonderful square sushi plates. They were expensive so I passed on them. Then I saw many Japanese cookie tins, then some other plates and collectibles. I started to recognize each object stashed on the shelf that was hers. I mourned her and celebrated her taste and sense of style at the same time. Then I saw this cup and I was not in the business of buying cups yesterday. It was precious, and the gold handle was gently worn. I was there for some time imagining this woman. Trying to talk myself out of buying this. And decided that I would take it home, in her honor and use it for my comfort tea.
This often happens at the Goodwill. I see many things that obviously belonged to one person, and once I see the connection I can see that person all over the store. You can just tell, feel it. It makes me so sad that I can hardly carry on or not cry in the aisle. I wonder where their families are. I hope they at least kept the good stuff and this was just their rejects. Did they not appreciate anything their mom, sister, (?) had, or did she not have any family left. Of course, there is the possibility that one person was just getting rid of everything, to move to a nursing home? Anyway, it always affects me in the most emotional way. This cup is my Beautiful Sunday object in tribute to collectors of wonderful stuff everywhere!
It’s a jungle out there
1 hour ago