This old bowl used to belong to my grandparents. When my Papa passed some years ago and my Grandma had already gone, it was one of the things I was drawn to and felt a big enough connection to for whatever reason to bring to my home and claim as my own. Maybe it was simple aesthetics. Maybe it was because I remember candy residing in there when I was younger. Whatever the reason, I brought it home years ago, promptly stuck it in a closet and forgot about it until very recently.
This bowl used to be a bright, blinding silver. It sat proudly amongst my grandparents belongings, reflecting proudly anything that would approach it. Now it is tarnished and dusty after years of isolation in one of my closets. Dormant and purposeless. Patiently waiting for a rediscovery. If my grandma were around to see it now, I’m almost definite her immediate response would be to grab some silver cleaner and a rag to polish it back to its former brilliant and shiny glory.