It caught my eye the first time I spotted it gleaming with rosy pride in my mother’s china cabinet. A squat little teapot with matching cups and saucers and little plates just the right size for some fancy sugary morsel. Oh, how I would love to own it. To me, it was the perfect tea set. Even its name, “Old Country Rose”, brought visions of grassy lanes and summer skies. Creamy peach and burgundy roses clustered on every delicately curved piece. I dropped a broad hint. What did I have to lose?
“Oh, Mother, that is so beautiful. Where did you get it?”
“Oh, that belonged to Al’s first wife, Thelma. Wendy loves it, too.”
My heart sank. Wendy was my stepfather’s beloved and only granddaughter. Guess who would eventually get that tea set? And rightfully so, but still…those roses!
The years passed by. On my yearly visits to their home, I continued to long for it, sneaking peeks between my attempts to develop a relationship with my stepfather. He tried so hard to be a father to us. Once when they picked me up at the bus station, and I thanked him, he said, “Of course we would pick you up. You’re our girl!” I hugged him, and tucked the words away. Another time we picked beans together in the neighbor’s garden up the hill, on a perfect summer day. I know he loved me.
But it was complicated.
One night, my husband, teenage son and I headed across town after spending the day with them. The sweet northwest twilight was taking its time and the lingering golden light began to break my heart. I realized, once and for all, that some things would never be mine. I began to weep. Once begun, the tears refused to stop, and they came in an uncontrollable flood. They gushed and spewed. It was not pretty. My husband and son watched in amazement. They were hungry, and we stopped for Japanese food, but I wept copiously through the entire meal. Thelma’s tea set would never, never belong to me.
Several years later when my birthday came, thehe family gathered at my oldest son’s home to celebrate with me. My daughter in law had made my favorite birthday cake and there were presents to open. What was this heavy unwieldy package? I looked inside and caught my breath as I saw them – the peach and burgundy roses. She knew. She had found the dishes and began to collect them, a few pieces at a time.
Today, a complete set of those dishes fills my china cabinet. When I look at them, I remember what it means to be loved.
