The Most Precious Thing

Oct 10, 2010 by winjaw

An update: The Little Black Dress, after reading this, informed me the artistic work involved was much more than I thought. And much worse. Additional information is at the bottom.

Moving half way across the country is, shall we say, trying.  That whole philosophy of unpacking is just like Christmas is just that, a philosophy made up by those who never moved.

Not only did we move our stuff, but several items that belonged to whom I affectionately called Mom No. 2, the mother of the Little Black Dress. Mom No. 2 died last year from the effects of Alzheimer’s and other issues.

Among those items was The Table. It was the prized possession of Mom No. 2. And it was not just any dining room table. I believe there are four inserts for it. I remember putting in all the extras and sitting down with 20 close friends celebrating New Year’s Day. We all fit comfortably. It’s a big table.

And it was the one thing the LBD wanted more than anything. She had a lot of wonderful memories eating and talking at that table with friends and family.

So we brought it.  

It sits prominently in our house, surrounded by boxes yet to be unpacked. I say surrounded because lord help you if anything other than a plate is placed on said Table. And the LBD still isn’t too sure about letting the Sons of Thunder even eat on it. Something about having to be worthy and not spilling anything and not sitting/standing on said Table and so forth.

She was  pretty adamant on the rules. Her only relenting came from letting the Sons do their homework on it. I think this was because otherwise they’d be writing on the floor. But she did give them the 14 Commandments relating to activities on The Table.

The Sons, thanks to the LBD’s genes, are rather talented artists. Yours truly has trouble with stick men. Anyway, their favored tools of choice, for some reason, are those permanent Sharpie markers.

And it was that artistic flair and said tools that led to The Incident with one of the Sons and The Table.

The youngest Son of Thunder, after completing his homework, started in on drawing. Right now his designs tend toward drawing sharks and smiley faces and various battles pitting him against, well, everyone. He proudly showed The Dress his latest creation, which I will point out was on paper and not The Table.

The LBD gave the appropriate motherly oohs and ahs as she held the Picasso. And then she glanced down at The Table. And that’s when The Incident turned into The Explosion.
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Seems those permanent Sharpie markers tend to bleed through paper, especially when the artist, like the youngest Son, presses down really, really hard. And whatever was on the paper is transferred to the object below. That object, in this case, being The Table.

I went outside. Didn’t really help, because various phrases still made it through several layers of walls.

Phrases like “my most precious thing,” “the one thing I asked you not to destroy,” “this was my mother’s table and didn’t have a scratch on it in 30 years and you ruin it in 3 days,” and “what were you thinking” and “how many times did I warn you” and so forth.

I finally ventured back in after several long, long minutes to the sounds of the LBD talking to herself – and loudly – while scrubbing with an extraordinary display of elbow grease. This is never a good sign. I glance over at the youngest Son who is sitting in a corner with his head down and the most dejected and sad look on his face I have ever seen.  And I have no idea what to do.

It is at this point The Dress stops and looks over at the Son. She walks over to him, bends down and simply says, “It was an accident. You are my most precious thing. That’s only a table.”

And then she hugged him. And there was a slight shake as the earth’s orbit went back into line.

We put a lot of pride and value in our stuff. At times, we seem to value stuff more than anything else. But the LBD showed her true colors, that when it comes down to true priorities, in the end, stuff is stuff. There is nothing more precious to her than her very own Sons of Thunder.

And by showing grace, the LBD got a little grace back. She later realized said Picasso was actually imprinted on a leaf of the table. And we have four. So we just changed it out.

Hopefully we’ll have a time when we need all four leaves for a big gathering. And the Picasso leaf will have to come out. Yet by then we’ll all laugh recalling The Incident. Well, I won’t laugh until I see The Dress laugh first. I’m not stupid.

The LBD would like it known that not only were Sharpies involved, but a ball point pen. Said ball point pen was apparently used quite vigorously. Thus, not only is there a painting, which she believes she will eventually remove, there is a carving. That will not be removed.

She has pointed out that when we are in our 80s, we will still be reminded of our youngest Son of Thunder and his artistic flair every time we eat.