I finally put my vintage Holly Hobbie drinking glasses in the dishwasher. Now normally this is where I would say something like, "Don't tell my sister!" But I'm not going to say that. Because of all people, she would understand why I committed this brazen act.
She found the set of glasses at a garage sale a couple of years ago and immediately thought of me. I was delighted to receive them and awed by the report that they had been so well cared for by the previous owner. As in, they had been hand washed.
For thirty years.
I suddenly became scared of the glasses. I was scared to drink from them. I was even more scared to let the children drink from them. On the rare occasions in which I did use one of these precious vessels, I was careful to hand wash them in warm, soapy water and return them carefully to their nesting place in the cupboard, breathing a sigh of relief that they had survived the hazardous ordeal.
At some point, one of the glasses ended up in the dishwasher. Probably the kids were loading and I wasn't paying much attention. As you can imagine, it ran through the cycle quite merrily and came out decidedly clean. It was wonderful, I tell you. Wonderful.
The dishwashing "mistake" made something click in my brain. I wasn't using these delightful glasses nearly as much as I could have. I wasn't freely sharing them with my girls, but had been behaving rather like a martyr each time I ceremoniously brought them down for a little one's sick tray. I was even creating more work for myself when I could have chosen simplicity.
It was all quite silly.
I love these glasses, and I want to use them. I want my girls to use them. And we will be so much more likely to do so if we can easily wash them. Even (yes, it's true), even if that means running the risk of chipping the paint or even losing one all together.
Otherwise, I let the thing become more important than the person using it.
As we continue to pack up our home, I realize that I've done this in other ways, too. I've come across stationery that I didn't use. I was saving it for a special occasion. Jam from England. Too precious to consume. I even found a bar of soap from Slovenia that I hadn't used. It was a souvenir, after all.
Saving, waiting, keeping. All for some elusive special occasion. An occasion that may or may not actually arrive.
But what if I allowed that special occasion to be right now? What if this was that special moment that I had been waiting for? What if I celebrated the beauty of today, cast off fears and inhibitions and said, "Yes! Let's do it!"
Because the truth is that life is happening today. And I sure don't want to miss out on it.