As I’ve been spending time with my belongings, sifting and sorting, I’ve been looking more closely at things. There are objects that are mine, and have always been mine. And there are things that I have “inherited,” or chosen.
On my bookshelf is this little ginger jar that was, I think, my grandmother Grace’s. It was repaired really badly a very long time ago, but she kept it. I wish I knew its story, but all I have is my imagination. All I know is that it was made in 1917 by the Van Briggle pottery in Colorado.
Did she break it? Did she fix it because she loved it? What made her keep it for her whole life, even wrapped and put away in a box?
I love it because it was broken and fixed, with the glue squeezing out and some pieces still missing. I love it because it mattered to her, though I don’t know the reason.
I guess I’m hoping that one day, when I’m long gone, my family will cherish something I kept without needing an explanation. Just because!
Not Plain Jane 
Maybe she had a fight with her husband when they were younger and the jar became a victim of it and she felt so bad about it after they had made up again that she fixed it because he had given it to her as a present….sounds like a romantic movie…lol. Great jar though! I would have kept it, too 😉
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Lovely; thank you.
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That is a sweet story! I understand exactly what you mean.
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Sometimes the most meaningful stories are only glimpsed through the broken parts; through those missing pieces. What a beautiful piece (in so many ways!) to have around.
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