Preserve Family

Letterform

I just saw this Etsy photo of a print that looks like a mason jar. Initially my heart swelled with that oh-em-gee-so-cute-I-want-that-in-my-kitchen feeling. Then I remembered that my family doesn't have any recipes. Or fabulous heirlooms. Or wonderful traditions. Or attics full of forgotten treasure. Or special sayings and mottos. Or... well... anything. We all kind of just exist. Nothing is terribly sacred. We have a hutch full of someones pretty old dishes and stuff but I couldn't tell you whose it was. We have never used it. It never gets dusted. They just sit there in their wood and glass tomb.

This is what fuels my desires to be a mother. I so badly miss the traditions and family mottos I never had. I miss family treasures. I miss the idiosyncrasies that make a Braverman a Braverman (can't wait for the next season. I know they are actors but what they portray is real.) It is what fuels me to rescue thrift store antiques. I want to be a mother who celebrates birthdays with gusto. I want to fix this broken lineage of people who just disappear. I want to pass something on to people that sticks with them in the best way. I carry a lot of hurt from my family. They are rubber and I am glue. I want my children to catch themselves doing something just the way I did it as they raise their own families. Is it weird to feel this way? Children aren't on the horizon for a few years and I'm already thinking about my grandkids. I will be the start of a new line. Where things are special and respected. I know stuff is just stuff but I think we ought to be able to hold something our great-great-great-grandmothers held if we treat a few sacred things with care. The cake cutting set we chose for the wedding isn't flashy at all. It isn't fine silver or ivory. It is simple metal, sold by Macy's with Martha Stewart's name on the box. The handles look like twigs and I love them. I hope these simple utensils are used again throughout the years and become engrained in the minds of my children. I hope they get passed along as a reminder of all the good times.