This morning, after waking up and feeding the cats, I went into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I opened the cupboard where we keep our mugs and took out one with ‘Soul Sister’ painted on the side. I smiled when I thought of my friend Ileen who gave me the mug for Christmas in 2023. He passed away in February 2024.
Ileen lived in London and had a gift for enjoying the little things in the most peculiar way. For him, a good cup of English tea was equivalent to a glass of finely aged wine. I can still hear his booming voice reminding me to take the little things seriously. “Queen,” she would say, using my assigned nickname, “a good cup of tea in a favorite mug is one of the many small pleasures we sprinkle in throughout the day. Remember that.” Then she turned and laughed and walked off to take a long hot shower, another small pleasure of hers.
After letting my tea steep, I lifted a special bottle of honey from the shelf above the teapot. I bought it from a woman who lives down the street and has been keeping bees for years. This honey was harvested in the spring of 2020 and tastes like an explosion of wildflowers. I still have half a bottle (I save it for special moments) and every time I take a sip I say hush Thanks To Michele and her bees. Another small joy.
Pulling a spoon out of the silverware drawer to use for the honey, I smiled at the name Mary Ryan on the handle. It belonged to my friend Lucy who died in 1991. Lucy put me in charge of her estate, and this antique spoon that bears her middle name represents a pivotal time in my life when I felt alone and uncertain about my future.
When Lucy died, her lawyer suggested I move into her home to manage her belongings. This physical movement rearranged my entire life. It brought about the end of an unhealthy relationship and a job I hated, and eased the uncertainty I felt about moving forward with my passion for speaking and writing. Lucy’s belief in me to take on such a big task gave me the courage and confidence, and over time, this shift in energy opened doors to opportunities I could never have imagined. The little silver spoon is another source of joy for me, Lucy’s reminder that change is a friend we can trust.
Sometimes I look around our home and think about the things I hold on to that are lovely but lack the messages and memories that bring meaning and joy. Why hold on to these things when I can make a place that highlights the little joys that are left that are more important than anything else?
That’s when I’m inspired to pick out an item or two to give to someone who cares. As I wrap the item in pretty paper, I like to imagine that the gift can become a source of joy in someone else’s life, a memory that lives on long after I’m gone.
Love,
Cheryl
