I can’t believe it’s been almost a year and a half since my Spoon! blog post, where a group of friends conspired to sent me their spoons to counteract the loss of my own thanks to newly acquired but chronic illness during a time of great life upheaval.
I carried this box of carefully wrapped spoons with me everywhere. I received it in Illinois, where I was living with my Mom pre-Clarion. To San Diego it came for six weeks, to follow me to Santa Monica by air, back to Illinois by air, once again to Santa Monica but by post, back to San Diego hand-carried by foot, bus, and train, and then air once again to Illinois where it (and I) rested the night before continuing on to Detroit airport and a brief car ride through the tunnel to Canada.
The box has sat for nearly a year, its beloved contents awaiting a proper home. In that time, I’ve carved out a small office for myself but it took until now to figure out an adequate way to show assemble the spoons with the respect that they deserve.
This is the best I can do for now. Better this than in a box, out of sight but never forgotten. As socially introverted as I feel at times, my friends mean more to me than words can do justice. These spoons are just one example of the bonds that tie us together. When this was organized, most of us had never met before. Now, I think we’ve all met at least once. There’ve been weddings, the founding of the Inkpunks, and lots of shared love. That makes all of life’s pains a whole lot easier to bear.