Wedding China
When you’re awake at 4:27 a.m. on a Monday, your mind anxiously swirling and re-swirling the haunting images of your failed love(s) and marriage, you proceed to do the most logical thing. The most logical thing being going into the extra storage closet of your new abode and finding one of the multiple boxes marked “CHINA.” Written on the box by your optimistic hand pre-divorce during a move that you and your now-ex underwent in an attempt to add “new location” to the list of things you tried in order to save your doomed union. Inside this cardboard box marked “CHINA,” lie mini time bombs of pain, yet to explode. And by that, I mean smaller boxes of china pieces, some of which have never even been removed from their boxes at any point during the time period they were the joint possession of you and your former paramour.
Why they were never removed and used during the two years of marriage can be blamed upon a myriad of circumstances and reasons. One, you never lived anywhere nice enough or decorated your home well enough to actually host any gatherings. Two, your now ex-lover poo-pooed any suggestion you made to host such a gathering of your family at Thanksgiving or Christmas. A fact which, were he privy to these internal thoughts, he would vehemently deny at this point. Isn’t it astounding how, after love fractures, the two parties to that love all of a sudden have 180 degree opposite memories of events, timelines, and things said? You were once so on the same page with this person that you planned a WEDDING and a HONEYMOON and a FOREVER and yet now, the two of you will wildly disagree over the details of events that occurred a mere six months ago. Perhaps this is nature’s way of protecting our minds and hearts from the fullest pain and realization of heartbreak. The mind clouds over those moments in which you yourself were a selfish jerk and highlights those moments that your spouse failed you. So you are hopefully one day able to say, “Good riddance to that maniac!” while at the same time preserving a strong sense of self. (That day has yet to come.)
But I digress from the task at hand. That task at hand being me acting and/or imitating and/or actually being a crazy single woman opening her unused wedding china in the middle of the night for her to stare at and mourn her lost youth and opportunity for happily-wedded bliss. One box containing a small creamer of Lenox’s Lace Couture china. Another box containing its matching sugar bowl. You once loved this china. You loved the delicate and feminine platinum lace pattern that adorned the white china in a minimalist way. Just the sight of it makes your heart catch as your remember finding it and loving it and having to convince your then fiancé that your love for this china was deep and true and everlasting so that he would agree to such a feminine pattern. Which he shortly did with much good grace and a tender kiss on the side of your forehead, as he could clearly see and share with you your vision of forty or fifty years of Christmases and Thanksgivings and Valentine’s Days and graduation celebrations and fancy dinner parties that you and he and this china would share. And so he helped you register for every little piece. The standard 12 place settings yes, but also the accent plates and the accent bowls and the above-mentioned creamer and sugar bowl and the vegetable serving bowl and the platter – items which cost upwards of $300 and $400.
And lo and behold, by the time of your wedding, your loving friends and family members, wanting to share in your joy and wish you well and send you off into the journey of marriage with blessings and congratulations and many pounds of delicate china, had purchased every. Single. Piece. Enough china to host a 12-person dinner and have a plethora of china covering your table. And don’t forget – the Waterford crystal glasses. Oh yes, those were included as well. 12 again.
And somehow, in the haste of the divorce and the emotional "you take this, I want that" tug-of-war, I ended up with all of this china. And the glasses. And the coordinating stainless serving wear. And the place settings. I cannot lie. As I freed the delicate creamer from its box in my single girl kitchen at approximately 4:30 a.m. in the morning, I marveled at the fine detailing and beauty of this small luxury item of which I have very little use. I remembered how much I had loved this china and in a way, still very much do love this china. I held the creamer gently and carefully in my hands, softly running my thumb over the lace detailing. And I had a sudden and intense urge to throw the creamer as hard as I could at the wall and watch it smash into thousands of glass shards, causing a loud and satisfying crash of destruction. My eyes welled with tears and I cautiously placed the fragile creamer back down onto the counter. I let my fingers slowly stroke over its smooth and glassy surface. Incredible how I felt a simultaneous desires to cherish and destroy this small inanimate object.
How can it be that such a small item symbolizes so much love and hope and dreams and expectation? All failed now. All lost now. Leaving only beautiful wedding photos and stabbing memories of tender kisses and warm bear hugs and joking discussions about the children you wanted together. How can it be that such a small item brings on tears that you thought you were done crying. Haven’t you been divorced for God knows how long now? When will this pain subside? When will you feel at peace with your decision?
You wipe your eyes and take a few good breaths, long and deep. You calm your spirit. You wrap the china back into its protective bubble wrappings and gently place it back into its boxes. The cardboard box back into the closet. And you go upstairs and wrap yourself up just as gently into your favorite blanket, handling yourself with the same care that you used with the delicate china. Lay down onto your bed. And whisper fervent prayers for healing. Until sleep comes once more.
