Antique malls are piled high with things that represent another life: intricate china with gold fading patterns, tiny spoons, little glass salt cellars, crystal glasses with impossibly long stems. Then, even a cup of tea was an event: saucers carefully placed just so. I remember my mother-in-law, bustling about her small kitchen preparing something --it didn't matter what. It could be something simple --a single scoop of vanilla ice cream. But she would take out the stainless steel ice cream cups that she kept in the freezer so the perfectly scooped icy mountain (or so it seemed to her grandchild) would still be cold. Little miniature spoons were placed beside the silver icy bowls. That world is gone. Even the language has become obsolete. No one knows what you mean when you say: I will pencil you in. Instead, they look down at their phones busily scrolling waiting for the next best thing.
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real
experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
1 comment:
Antique malls are piled high with things
that represent another life: intricate china with gold fading patterns,
tiny spoons, little glass salt cellars, crystal glasses with impossibly
long stems. Then, even a cup of tea was an event: saucers carefully placed just so. I remember my mother-in-law, bustling about her small kitchen preparing something --it didn't matter what. It could be
something simple --a single scoop of vanilla ice cream. But she would take out the stainless steel ice cream cups that she kept in the freezer so the perfectly scooped icy mountain (or so it seemed to her grandchild) would still be cold. Little miniature spoons were placed beside the silver icy bowls.
That world is gone. Even the language has become
obsolete. No one knows what you mean when you say: I will pencil you in. Instead, they look down at their phones busily scrolling waiting
for the next
best thing.
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