Gee, thanks. The word that jumps off the page is teapot. Not the much more interesting words: bewildered, puzzled, arrest, pronounce… teapot. I don’t even drink tea!
That’s not entirely true. I will, on rare occasion, drink tea. If it is a flavor I like, and if I am out to dinner where everyone is ordering dessert, apertifs and warm beverages, and if it is cold enough that my nose is cold. Then, I’ll have some tea.
My mom loves tea. As I’ve maligned her in past posts, here’s one for/from mom:
Dear Well-Traveled Teapot:
Hello, old friend. You have made the rounds of three houses. You’ve resided in every room in each of those homes. A few times a year, you are picked up and relocated, thereby getting to “travel” our little world. But you are not used, as you are impractical for use. You are pretty, in all your faded glory, and I don’t have the heart to sell you, so you should be proud. You were given to me by someone much beloved, and by extension, you are loved as well.
I’m not sure if I am opening up a can of worms telling you this. You may think you are popular, always being one of the ones chosen as I shuffle the display items in the house. You may love meeting new friends or revisiting old ones from my collection as I move you into new places. The reason you get to do this, is because I am always finding new favorites. My family and friends buy me new, wonderful teapots that need to hold places of honor, and then I have to carry you about the house, searching for your newest spot, otherwise you will be relegated to my eBay pile. And I just can’t do that to you, one of my first teapots. We are moving again soon, and I’ll wrap you up carefully, and ship you in a box amongst the others. Don’t worry, you’ll find yourself still with me at the end of the journey.