第二章 有一种快乐叫珍惜（9）
《世界上最温情的故事》作者：吴文智 2017-04-14 12:57
第二章 有一种快乐叫珍惜（9）
祖母的瓷器
Grandmother’s China
克里斯蒂娜?朗德奎斯特／Kristine Lundquist
In 1949 my parents made the big move from Rockford, Illinois, to Southern California, along with three very tiny children and all their household possessions. My mother had carefully wrapped and packed many precious f***ly heirlooms, including four cartons of her mother’s hand-painted dinner china. Grandmother had painted this lovely set herself, choosing a forget-me-not pattern.
Unfortunately, something happened during the move. One box of the china didn’t make it. It never arrived at our new house. So my mother had only three-quarters of the set—she had plates of different sizes and some serving pieces, but missing were the cups and saucers and the bowls. Often at f***ly gatherings or when we would all sit down for a Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, my mother would say something about the missing china and how she wished it had survived the trip.
When my mother died in 1983, I inherited Grandmother’s china. I, too, used the set on many special occasions, and I, too, wondered what had happened to the missing box.
I love to prowl antique shops and flea markets, hunting for treasures. It’s great fun to walk up and down the aisles early in the morning, watching as the vendors spread their wares on the ground.
I hadn’t been to a flea market in over a year when, one Sunday in 1993, I got the itch to go. So I crawled out of bed at 5 A.M. and drove an hour in the predawn darkness to the giant Rose Bowl Flea Mark
本章未完，请点击下一页继续阅读》》
祖母的瓷器
Grandmother’s China
克里斯蒂娜?朗德奎斯特／Kristine Lundquist
In 1949 my parents made the big move from Rockford, Illinois, to Southern California, along with three very tiny children and all their household possessions. My mother had carefully wrapped and packed many precious f***ly heirlooms, including four cartons of her mother’s hand-painted dinner china. Grandmother had painted this lovely set herself, choosing a forget-me-not pattern.
Unfortunately, something happened during the move. One box of the china didn’t make it. It never arrived at our new house. So my mother had only three-quarters of the set—she had plates of different sizes and some serving pieces, but missing were the cups and saucers and the bowls. Often at f***ly gatherings or when we would all sit down for a Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, my mother would say something about the missing china and how she wished it had survived the trip.
When my mother died in 1983, I inherited Grandmother’s china. I, too, used the set on many special occasions, and I, too, wondered what had happened to the missing box.
I love to prowl antique shops and flea markets, hunting for treasures. It’s great fun to walk up and down the aisles early in the morning, watching as the vendors spread their wares on the ground.
I hadn’t been to a flea market in over a year when, one Sunday in 1993, I got the itch to go. So I crawled out of bed at 5 A.M. and drove an hour in the predawn darkness to the giant Rose Bowl Flea Mark