Spoon Love

Love is a Northland Stainless spoon made in Korea before I was born.

I spent many of my father’s weekends at my grandmothers, and my memories of her house take up more than half my childhood.

We moved often (well, both parents moved often, and separately, so my brother and I were along for the ride).

But my grandma’s house, that was constant.

As a adult, I recognize that we weren’t there to simply strengthen family bonds, but so my dad could have help with his children.

He needed his mom to entertain us.

But as a child, I didn’t care.

I loved the big grass backyard with a climbing tree, my grandma’s expansive and well-maintained flower garden,

and the secret chocolate drawer, just right of the fridge.

Sometimes, my grandmother would slice a banana into rounds in a bowl and pour half-and-half over them,

telling us this was a treat my father enjoyed as a boy.

I loved to imagine him sitting at the same table, and I loved my grandmother’s cutlery —

the delicate flowers and ribbons and bows, how light they were in my hands.

After my father died, I cleaned out his house, and combed through drawers for treasures.

And there they were, in the silverware tray. Two spoons and two forks, patterns intact.

He must have taken them when HIS mother died, memories as fond as mine, if never shared.

The best discovery, for a million reasons.

And now they reside in our drawer, random pieces that seem out of place but are actually the most like home.

I told Mila briefly about them, how I used them as a child, and her grandpa used them as a child,

and we moved on, life demanding our attention elsewhere.

But now, they are always the ones she chooses — the unseen and unspoken connection to her past, her history, her love.

Give me Grandpa’s spoon, she’s says,

it’s my favorite.