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The Bowl
By Stephanie Kemp
The Bowl
By Stephanie Kemp
We have a little cabin in the woods that saves me daily, weekly, monthly, annually…
Even when I’m not there.
Especially when I’m not there.
The mere knowledge of its existence saves me.
We rent it out to family and friends when we can. So that we can keep it. I wish we could just let them use it. Not have them pay to be there. Not have to make my husband have those conversations since I find them to be awkward and off-putting.
Who makes family and friends rent their little getaway cabin in the woods?
Only Gross people.
Gauche people.
Greedy people.
Or people who aren’t always sure they can afford a cabin in the woods and want to try to hold onto it….shhhhh.
I also don’t like to rent our cabin because I want to always be there.
So I’m always a little angry at our friends and family (you know, the renters who are helping us hold onto the place I want to always be) when they rent the cabin.
But I digress (and just had to remind myself to breathe).
Some very good people were at our cabin last weekend. They wanted to go big on celebrating their son’s birthday. An early double digit.
Their plan was to snowboard, ski, build fires, cook, play. For 4 whole days.
These people don’t mess around.
They arrived at 8am on a week day (after a 3 hour drive and with an additional son who isn’t even close to double digits), shoveled a long driveway full of a foot of snow to get into the house, played games, read books, made snow balls and angels, stayed until after dinner on their last day (a Sunday night before a school day, still facing a 3 hour drive AND a laundry drop off detour), did a stellar cabin clean up before departure and even stopped for ice cream on the way out of town.
Being both good people and guests (not to mention friends), they also sent a beautiful note thanking us and telling us that they had broken a wine glass and a bowl.
“A red bowl with hearts. Hand made by someone named Lynn.”
They were so sorry and very apologetic and full of ideas of how to replace the bowl, even offering to make one themselves “even though it won’t look the same because of some glazing issues.”
My husband (god love him and much to my now even greater socially awkward chagrin) replied:
“Quick question about the heart bowl (Steph’s mother made it for her and recently passed away, which is why I ask): is it in 2 or 3 pieces and easily glue-able? Or is it a more daunting task?”
Our friends were also now horrified.
3 things happened when I learned about the bowl:
1. I yelled at my husband for renting our cabin in the first place and then telling our friends that they broke my dead mom’s bowl.
2. I cried and cried until I realized I never even really liked the bowl.
3. I loved my friends and husband even more as I discovered their covert and ever evolving text chained plans to put the bowl back together (“save the pieces, leave it on the counter, what kind of epoxy would be best? should we tell her? what can we do?”).
Then I wrote my friends this note:
“Salut, mes ami(e)s -
So glad you had fun. Please don’t worry about the bowl - my mama was a firm believer that we can hold more through the cracks. xxxxxxx”
When my husband read my note he said, “Baby, that is beautiful. Did your mom say that?”
“No.” I said…..pondering the question.
But as I sit in our cabin in the woods 10 days later, looking at a strange little bowl made by my mom, broken by my friends, put back together by my husband and still with me - only better - I realize that she taught it.
And I have (possibly) finally learned it.
Even when I’m not there.
Especially when I’m not there.
The mere knowledge of its existence saves me.
We rent it out to family and friends when we can. So that we can keep it. I wish we could just let them use it. Not have them pay to be there. Not have to make my husband have those conversations since I find them to be awkward and off-putting.
Who makes family and friends rent their little getaway cabin in the woods?
Only Gross people.
Gauche people.
Greedy people.
Or people who aren’t always sure they can afford a cabin in the woods and want to try to hold onto it….shhhhh.
I also don’t like to rent our cabin because I want to always be there.
So I’m always a little angry at our friends and family (you know, the renters who are helping us hold onto the place I want to always be) when they rent the cabin.
But I digress (and just had to remind myself to breathe).
Some very good people were at our cabin last weekend. They wanted to go big on celebrating their son’s birthday. An early double digit.
Their plan was to snowboard, ski, build fires, cook, play. For 4 whole days.
These people don’t mess around.
They arrived at 8am on a week day (after a 3 hour drive and with an additional son who isn’t even close to double digits), shoveled a long driveway full of a foot of snow to get into the house, played games, read books, made snow balls and angels, stayed until after dinner on their last day (a Sunday night before a school day, still facing a 3 hour drive AND a laundry drop off detour), did a stellar cabin clean up before departure and even stopped for ice cream on the way out of town.
Being both good people and guests (not to mention friends), they also sent a beautiful note thanking us and telling us that they had broken a wine glass and a bowl.
“A red bowl with hearts. Hand made by someone named Lynn.”
They were so sorry and very apologetic and full of ideas of how to replace the bowl, even offering to make one themselves “even though it won’t look the same because of some glazing issues.”
My husband (god love him and much to my now even greater socially awkward chagrin) replied:
“Quick question about the heart bowl (Steph’s mother made it for her and recently passed away, which is why I ask): is it in 2 or 3 pieces and easily glue-able? Or is it a more daunting task?”
Our friends were also now horrified.
3 things happened when I learned about the bowl:
1. I yelled at my husband for renting our cabin in the first place and then telling our friends that they broke my dead mom’s bowl.
2. I cried and cried until I realized I never even really liked the bowl.
3. I loved my friends and husband even more as I discovered their covert and ever evolving text chained plans to put the bowl back together (“save the pieces, leave it on the counter, what kind of epoxy would be best? should we tell her? what can we do?”).
Then I wrote my friends this note:
“Salut, mes ami(e)s -
So glad you had fun. Please don’t worry about the bowl - my mama was a firm believer that we can hold more through the cracks. xxxxxxx”
When my husband read my note he said, “Baby, that is beautiful. Did your mom say that?”
“No.” I said…..pondering the question.
But as I sit in our cabin in the woods 10 days later, looking at a strange little bowl made by my mom, broken by my friends, put back together by my husband and still with me - only better - I realize that she taught it.
And I have (possibly) finally learned it.