A long time ago now, Kirsten took Polaroid pictures of the shelves in the house on Pinecrest.  Then she transferred them to handmade watercolor paper and the few that were successful hide in the flat files in the studio.   

I found this one the other day when I was cleaning up and looking for inspiration in the drawers.  I still have many of these cups and teapots, though a few have been given to Jennifer.  The demitasse cups still come out at dinner parties, and the orange teapot - well, I use it once in a while - always makes me smile.  

The picture feels like my memories: a little too grainy to recall with any precision, a little blotchy, a little faded.  But the feeling - the memory of the feeling - this is crystal clear.  And the feeling is gratitude.  

Last night, at the picnic table in Fran and Dusty's yard, I remembered when you first met Kirsten.  You had come for a visit and we were sitting on the couch in the living room.  Kirsten went into the kitchen to get us something - a martini, maybe - or tea, or coffee, I do not remember - and you leaned over and said:  Oh, Amanda, she is so cute. Can we keep her? 

It was the perfect thing to say... and here we are 17 or 18 years later and the answer is today what it was then: Oh yes, oh yes, we can.   

I suppose I am thinking about this because we are talking about renovating the house and among the many steps in this crazy process will be a fierce inventory of what we have (and why), what we will keep or toss (and why), and with it a revisiting of so many feelings, so many moments, so much life.

There is no question that I am easily charmed by pretty things, beautiful objects, teapots, dishes, cups, and bowls.  But the older I get, the more aware I am that these things, even when empty,  tucked away in the china cabinet, in their emptiness, in their waiting, they hold history and the history is more dear than the object itself.  

Always thinking of you..

Amanda