A mother's influence

As I pulled the chair over to the kitchen cabinet to reach for a specific plate, you might start to think I was preparing for a guest to arrive or a special event. On this particular day, no guests were on the schedule nor special events. The special event just happened to be lunch for one- me. As I began to ponder why I even needed a plate my thoughts were turned to my mother.

Growing up we never had that special room you could not enter, nor the dining table reserved solely for holidays. Our home was meant to be lived in whether it was slumber parties in the living room or art projects on the dining table. Our home had rooms equally purposeful and useful. We ate on dishes and dined with silverware in hand, we learned to drink our of stemware and lay our cloth napkins on our laps. At a young age I was taught to use your good stuff for no reason other than because you are worth it.

As I reheated last night's dinner and climbed onto that chair in search of my plate, I realized how it has become engrained in me to feel as though I deserve better than eating out of tupperware. I will dine on a plate, napkin on my lap and silverware in hand, not because someone special is coming to visit, but because I am someone special. I was taught to celebrate everyday life moments and for that I have my mother to thank.