The Wooden Bowl
Journal Entry: Mon May 26, 2008, 4:26 AM
- Mood:
Sadness - Listening to: Silence
- Reading: The Road Less Travelled
- Watching: The back of my eyelids soon.
- Playing: Words
- Eating: nata
- Drinking: English Breakfast Tea
It’s amazing just how many memories can be attached to one simple item, and the emotions that can be brought to the fore with those memories just as amazing, if not a little surprising. You can never seem to control these moments and they come upon you seemingly without rhyme nor reason. One must wonder what point there must be in the long forgotten past to be relived in such a moment, and also, why at that particular point in time?
My moment, today, came with a wooden bowl, a simple wooden salad bowl to be exact. Pine in colour, nothing fancy about it in the slightest, just a largish wooden salad bowl. I rarely use the bowl but it had been used over the weekend for popcorn at my daughter’s tenth birthday. No memories filled my mind when I pulled it out to use, no flashes of its past and its coming to my life came to me at all at that time. But tonight, for some reason upon washing the bowl, I remembered.
We bought the bowl on a grocery shopping trip, our first as a couple. We were making plans to move out of my parents place and into our own home or, to be more precise, our first rental home together. We bought several other items that day too in preparation for the day we knew was coming: a washing basket, some utensils, a few other odds and ends and, of course, the salad bowl.
I remember we walked every aisle of the Franklins at West End in the old market building looking at all that was on offer and grabbing bits and pieces from the ‘specials’ baskets in every aisle. “Oooh! It’s only a dollar!” we proclaimed and promptly put it into our trolley. I also remember both of us being surprised at how quickly one dollar plus one dollar adds up once we got to the check out. Yet we happily paid for our new items with the joyful knowledge that we were beginning a new journey together.
I remember there was a garden store at the front of the market building on the way to the carpark. They had pot plants up and down the front steps and as we walked past a white rose bush caught my eye and I turned back to it. It was called Iceberg and I knew it was to be mine. “Our first plant together too”, I’d thought. And off home we went after that. I believe we caught the bus with all our new things, as neither of us had our licenses for driving at that stage. We were young and in love.
I remember around that time we had found a flat we’d decided to look at. It may even have been that day that we did, I don’t recall that specifically. I know we liked it a lot though it was very, very small. One bedroom with the only bathroom attached to it. The bathroom walls we diagonal pine boards, floor to ceiling, and the washing machine and dryer were in there too. The lounge slash dining slash kitchen area was no more than nine meters by five meters, if that. That was the entire flat. Like I said; it was very, very small. But we loved it all the same. I don’t remember if we applied for it or not, but we never moved into that flat. I think the asking price for the rent was too high for us, if I remember correctly.
The Franklins supermarket no longer exists, indeed maybe even the old market building is gone, I don’t know as I’ve not been down to West End in many, many years. I did end up marrying that man and we shared more than a decade of life together along with two beautiful children, but sadly it wasn’t meant to be. The divorce is set for June fourth. I still have the memories, and the salad bowl.
Tired
Artistic
Optimism
