Growing up, my mother had a set of china she only brought out for special occasions. As a child I anxiously awaited the days deemed special enough for the good dishes—holidays, birthdays and family visits. I remember tracing the patterns with delicate fingers, noting their fragility, a delight to my tactile senses.

A number of years later, I found myself on the sales floor of a Macy’s picking out a china pattern for my wedding registry. Of all the things I wished for, it was the dishes I wanted most. I got a few pieces as gifts, and my mother lovingly purchased the remaining place settings I needed to complete my set.

My beautiful dishes were carefully placed on display in a dining room hutch. Often, I found myself stopping to admire them, but only served a few meals on them. Sadly, the dishes were packed away in a box for more years than I care to admit.

Life happens—amid the chaos of a number of moves and cramped quarters of a couple apartments, my life didn’t seem “good” enough to unpack the china. I wasn’t “good” enough for the china. You see, through the lens of childhood nostalgia, I believed china was only for those “special” days and special people. As I’ve gotten older and lived a little more, I’ve come to realize every day is special. Sure, some days are much better than others, but life itself is worth the china. I’m worth the china, each and EVERY day.

A couple years ago, I decided to unpack my dishes and use them—truly use them. Do they still seem fragile? Yes, but it wouldn’t be life-altering if I broke one. Do they still seem special? Yes, special enough to make my heart flutter a little when I pull them out of the cabinet and only eat leftovers on them. Are they just dishes? Yes—but to me they are so MUCH more.

Love,
L.N.

I’ve entertained starting a blog for awhile now and finally decided why not. I played with some ideas for a name, but nothing seemed quite right. I got my inspiration for the Write Dish from a set of old china in my cabinet I use almost every day…