Sunday, February 10, 2008

I'm a little teapot...

short and stout,
here is my handle, here is my spout. When I get all steamed up then I shout
not only was this my favorite song when I was 5, but this teapot is part of a set (the part that must have been broken long before my time) that belonged to Dar. As far as I know, only the sugar dish remains. I still remember her lovely old hands (mine are looking more and more like them every day) holding that spoon steady, picking up a heaping teaspoon-full of sugar and expertly shaking the perfect amount on our buttered toast, then tapping the corners to sprinkle the excess back into the pot. Amazing how I even remember the sounds. A little dash of cinnamon, and we were eating like queens. But never with the teapot. We mostly drank oj.
I found this at the salvation army thrift shop down the street from our house (well, it was actually a questionably legal basement apartment in Pontiac, Michigan.) about 6 years ago. Preparing to move, we were dropping things off, and my husband made it very clear that we had no money and no room... we already had too much "useless crap" to pack. ("useless crap" is a term that covers everything other than his clothes, shoes, books, dvds and various other personal items that hold much more significance than, say, towels or dishes. They would fall under the "useless crap" category.) Anyway... I couldn't help but swoon over this sweet teapot; identical to the sugar dish from my childhood idol's kitchen table. But I immediately put it back down. I wasn't going to bother.
The next day I was packing, scrubbing walls, etc. and he walked in with my teapot. It was literally his last $15, and it was the least practical thing he had ever done (other than, perhaps, falling in love with me). Even still, after all of these years and what they hold, I can hear the "I love you" that it was meant to speak.
damn teapot. I love it too. What ever happened to that guy? I liked him.

1 comment:

Jessica said...

I love this story.