Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Here's the Dish

I bought some new white dishes last week on sale. (check out the photo above). I've been in the market for everyday dishes for two years now. I've been hobbling along with a smattering of dishes that I bought my freshman year of college and some of my grandmother's everyday china. I only have four plates of each and a couple of bowls and one set is blue and the other pink and green. It hasn't been really conducive to entertaining. So, this new purchase is my answer to that little problem. 

I've only wanted white dishes. No color for me. I want these dishes to last a very long time and go with everything. Hopefully that will be so. 

But these dishes also feel like a big commitment. A big commitment to being a real grown-up. Like this is my house, this is my car, this is my husband and these are my dishes. You only have dishes when you have a decent place to house them and a table to set them on and great food to serve on them at your latest dinner party. 

Dishes make you responsible for all sorts of things. 

They seem to proclaim to the world: I'm here, I'm settled and this is my life. 

Maybe that is why I've been avoiding, delaying, and running from the implications. I've been really unsure for a long time where I am, if I'm settled and what my life looks like. I've been in a giant holding pattern waiting for the next big thing to come along: my fabulous life as a writer in New York, my adventurous life as deep sea diver in Alaska, my neo-spiritual life as hiking guide in the mountains of New Mexico. Something or anything different than the job I work, the body I have, and the indecision that continues to mount in my life. 

And really, I think I just kept waiting for the wedding. 

You know, that nebulous, fairy-tale thing that is supposed to happen to you in your twenties when you've finally found the one and decide to make a life and babies with him. That wedding. 

Yeah, that wedding didn't come. Neither did the shopping together and the setting up of our first house and the choosing of dishes that would signify the life we were living together where we shared a table and food and a daily ritual that could stretch on into forever. 

It's taken me a while to pack up that little fairy tale. It was a pretty one to hold in my treasure box, but it isn't the only dream there. And in some of my pining and moaning for another reality, I've forgotten all those other dreams. All those other places I want to go and people I want to see and life I want to live. I've let those other dreams get a dusty and cobwebby and hidden. 

And it's killing me. 

So, the lid's been taken off the treasure box and some dreams have been dusted off and others discarded. Really, the only dream that truly matters is that I'm using my gifts to serve and love others in this world. That I'm living the best life I know how in the moments that I have right now and not waiting for the future to meet me or the past to catch up with me. I'm just using what I've been given right now, right here, in this very moment. 

So, I bought dishes. Pretty white dishes that make me feel I can welcome the world at my door and serve them meals on understated, elegant dinnerware. And so I can really get this party started called my life right now

I'm here, I'm settled, and this is my life. And these are my dishes. 


cassie said...

This is honestly a beautiful post. I love your writing!

L & H & Q & E said...

I love your dishes and I love this essay. And I understand what you mean. And I'm proud of you.

Christine said...

I'm so sick of the dishes I've had for the last who knows how long. And now I want THESE dishes, thanks! That was a GREAT find! You are awesome.

Meg said...

I love the beads and the white. I loved your post too. In truth, Spencer has never helped/looked for any of our dishes so this will be one thing you won't have to register for!

Aunt Mary Jane said...

You are such a gifted writer. Please send this in somewhere so it can be published!! Thanks for touching my heart.

The Ashtons said...

You certainly touch my life for good through your consistent and thoughtful, friendship, and service in the primary. Thank you!

de la Hoz Family said...


That was so beautiful. I love you so dearly.

Our friendship was forged during a young and exploring stage of life and I have so enjoyed experiencing eachother as we have grown. It has been about 10 years now. I know that so many things have changed and that we don't really get to see eachother. But, I sure do love your blog. That was very inspiring. Thanks for being you!!!!

Nancy said...

eden....i felt a cool wind from france blow my way as I was reading "my dishes". it took me to the simple for the moment and enjoying the conversation with people you love. thanks for the experience with you. aunt sissy

Cissy said...

Thanks for a very sweet, very personal essay.

Eden said...

Cassie--thanks for coming and reading. I think you feel where I'm coming from at times.

H--thanks for getting the root meaning of my essay. I told you I was going to write about lead-free dishes but this is what came out instead. I guess that will be a post for a future day.

Christine--let me know if you get them. I get the feeling sick of your own dishes.

Meggie--thanks for looking on the positive side. That gave me a boost.

Aunt MJ--thanks for reading. I will certainly think about submitting it.

Annie--Thanks for your sweet words. I know that I love visiting and seeing you too.

Rachael--Oh, my friend. I can't believe it has been 10 years. You've had such an impact on my life and I'm so happy we've reconnected through blogging. Thanks for hearing my heart.

Aunt Sis--Yes, France certainly was an influence in this post. That visit reminded me to enjoy the present moment and soak in the life I was living in that moment. That has been a gift.

Cissy--thanks for reading. It was a bit of a risk to share it, but I'm glad I did.

Goose said...

Pretty dishes. Beautiful verse. Love you Eden.


Related Posts with Thumbnails