Happy Dishes

Thirty-one years ago when I married my husband, we went like all young couples to pick out dishes. We waded through dozens and dozens of patterns in the china shop. They were all gorgeous.

I chose beautiful delicate flowery china for my meat dishes and happy bright colored china with a bird (I was sure he was singing) on a branch for my dairy. I loved my dishes to death over the years, and already more than ten years ago, when they were almost 20 years old, I had only a few dinner and salad plates left.

For our twentieth anniversary, I had decided to buy new dairy dinnerware. I searched everywhere in Jerusalem, but china is expensive or not so plentiful in Israel. And I found nothing that I felt reflected the sunny breakfast - happy dairy dinnerware I wanted in my kitchen.

Yes, more than ten years, we've been eating with ad hoc plates and bowls, because the cheery fun dairy dinnerware eludes me.

Well, this week, my mother visited Ikea in Rishon LeZion with my nephew, and then made a big announcement, "I bought you dinnerware." She was so happy that a ten-year burden have finally been taken care of. She even unpacked one of the sets and showed me the plates on skype. Grey. White. Some grey. Some white.

I was crestfallen.

I had waited for more than 10 years in the hopes of one day finding my dream dishes, and my dearest mother, may she live and be well until 120, had brought me grey and white dishes.

Why am I telling you this story?

I really don't know. Sometimes we build things up in our heads to such an extent that it's impossible to have the reality match the dream. Or sometimes we give importance to things that are just things. I mean, they're just dishes, but I had wanted the kind of dishes that made folks smile and get excited about life. I wanted dishes that make folks say, "Hey, it's a great day. You look nice. What fun it is to be with you."

These are beautiful designer dishes that make folks want to eat a big Greek salad.

I guess that's good too.