a kitchen full of cups

Sunday, May 18, 2014

Yesterday was graduation for the class of 2014. I kept feeling like I should probably write a post about it being a year since my own graduation. It would be about how time moves so slow and so fast all at the same time. It would be about how I’m living in the unimaginable debris of those four years at school. It would be about how I can’t imagine anything else. How I don’t want to imagine anything else.

I suppose there will come a time when I write that post. But it’s not today. Today I want to write the cups that Steele and I have collected. If you’ve been reading this blog for four years, you might remember this post, about the first cup we bought together, and how it was the start to a kitchen full of cups. Well, we still have it. And you know what, we also have a kitchen full of cups.

Cups have a strange way of being unsentimental objects that still hold so many memories. So that they start out as just a thing in the kitchen, and slowly, over so much time, layers of memory and sentiment build up, and they absorb all of it and become an object heavy with meaning. But the beautiful thing is that in the next moment you can rinse them out, put them on the dish rack, and they’re once again a useful object.

These are cups that have been collected together, bought from ceramic sales, rescued from empty studios, purchased at Goodwill and OCAC’s gift shop. They’ve traveled from house to house; been wrapped in newspaper, held flowers, water, tea, wine, coffee. They are a proof of this life we’re building and living. Tangible things that stay the same no matter how much time passes. No matter how many things we leave behind. No matter how much we outgrow, how much crumbles beneath us and falls away. No matter what people we become. No matter what new lives we build. They bridge the gap between who we were and who we are and who we will be.

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